


To Change the Sun

by ChocolateChipMaster



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amputation, Angst, Bilingual Lance (Voltron), Captured Keith, Cuban Lance (Voltron), Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Gen, Hurt Keith (Voltron), Just So We're Clear, Keith (Voltron) Angst, Keith (Voltron) Needs a Hug, Keith (Voltron) Whump, Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, Keith (Voltron)-centric, Minor Character Death, Prisoner Keith (Voltron), Protective Shiro (Voltron), Psychological Torture, Recovery (eventually), The Galran is a dick, Torture, Torture Time with Haggar, Whump, kangst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2019-06-08 00:14:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 40
Words: 127,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15231132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocolateChipMaster/pseuds/ChocolateChipMaster
Summary: Keith didn't often make mistakes.But this time...this time he's royally screwed himself over.(In which the Red Paladin is captured and stripped of all he is at the Galran's hands. Also, Haggar is there)Updates on Saturdays!





	1. Chapter 1

If there was a competition for ‘worst headache’ Keith would have just won first place. 

He let out a low groan, slumped against the wall, an ache pulsing behind his eyes that made it difficult to concentrate. His head pounded, making coherent thought a problem. His throat felt like sandpaper and it didn’t help when Keith swallowed to try and lessen the pain. 

Keith pulled upwards, trying to press his hands up to his forehead to hopefully alleviate some of the headache when he realized he  _ couldn’t.  _

Panic flared in Keith’s chest, white-hot and afraid. His throat tightened to the point where it was difficult to breathe and he pulled again, hoping that maybe it was just sleep paralysis. 

He was horribly, horribly wrong. 

Keith opened his eyes. He was met with clean dark purple walls and ceiling that stared back at him. It was his first tip-off that he was not where he should have been. The ones at the castle were plain white, sleek, and without any real originality or pattern to them. These ones reminded him of the ceilings of the hospitals back home on Earth. Neat rectangles in an equal pattern scattered over the ceiling, only holding a distinct violet hue. 

They were  _ unfamiliar.  _

Keith’s heart rate spiked. He tugged hard on his wrists again but this time, Keith heard a quiet clink of metal on metal. A clicking noise he had only ever heard in movies. His head snapped up and he turned only to see his wrists were chained up to the wall of the strange room. His paladin armor was gone and he was stripped down to nothing but the pants of his flight suit. His feet were bare and also shackled and very cold, Keith realized. 

In fact, the whole room was freezing. Goosebumps had risen to Keith’s arms and he couldn’t rub them away like he wanted to. He hated the cold. Contrary to popular belief, the desert he lived in got unbearable cold in the winters, especially at night. Keith would bundle himself up in every blanket he owned in his shack and made himself some meager hot chocolate. It was nothing like he remembered Shiro making for him, or even his father or foster parents, but it was comforting. 

How Keith wished he was still back at home in his shack in the middle of the desert. 

He took a deep steadying breath. He couldn’t get lost in memories that wouldn’t help him get out. Most important here was  _ how the hell did he get here  _ and  _ how the hell did he get out?  _ He didn’t really remember. His last memory was dive-bombing a ship with Red and-

_ Red.  _

Keith’s heart skipped a beat. His lion. She would know where he was. She would surely come for him. She wouldn’t just abandon him...wherever he was. She would come. Keith pressed in against the back of his mind, searching and waiting for Red’s comforting,  _ fiery  _ presence to appear. 

But she  _ didn’t.  _

Red was gone. Like their connection had been completely severed. The presence Keith had grown so used to was just  _ gone.  _

_ Focus,  _ Keith thought, trying to level his breathing.  _ Patience yields focus.  _

The mantra Shiro had repeated to him much of his childhood was calming. It let Keith focus on the task at hand. If Red was gone from his mind, that meant she was gone or was on her way. Keith had to get out on his own instead of relying on her and the others. 

Keith yanked hard on his right hand. It didn’t budge, as expected, but he became aware of a tightening pain on his left wrist. He stopped only when it became nearly unbearable, the skin pulling apart under the chains. He gasped and stopped tugging and the pain lessened but only slightly. Out of instinct, Keith pulled on the other chain, only to have the one around his right tighten. 

Keith almost laughed. Those sick  _ bastards.  _

Keith pulled again simultaneously with both hands straining against the metal but  _ both  _ cuffs had the audacity to tighten this time and Keith really did let out a strangled yell. Agony flooded his mind as the cuffs tightened with every pull. His bones creaked, unable to handle the pressure and he could feel the strain, feel the bones start to splinter. 

He stopped pulling, panting heavily. The cuffs were still unbearably tight on his hands, cutting off blood flow to his fingers, and Keith was left sincerely wishing he hadn’t tried that. Every gasp seemed to worsen the pain. This was far  _ far  _ worse than the headache he had woken up with. 

Keith glared blearily at the wall. His wrists tingled uncomfortably, pulsing like his headache had been. 

The door (Keith could have  _ sworn  _ it was a wall) before him slid open. Keith watched it, eyes narrowing through the wetness in them to see who had entered. A Galran stood there, smirking and holding something that looked horribly like a whip, observing Keith. Keith suddenly felt like prey to a much larger predator. 

He tried to look fierce. Fixing the Galran with the worst glare he could muster, but he was reminded of his bonds by the sudden and painful tightening of both as he unconsciously curled his hands in fists and moved them up to mimic a defensive fighting stance. He clenched his jaw shut, grinding his teeth against the tiny whimper that threatened to seep out. 

He would not show weakness in front of  _ a Galran.  _

“The half-breed awakes,” The Galran’s voice was deep and cold, reminding Keith of the cold winters of the desert back home. Keith bared his teeth in response, keeping his glare on the Galran, as half-hearted as it was.

“What do you want?” He spat. 

“It’s not what I want,” the Galran said. “But rather what we can  _ get  _ from you.” 

“What does that mean?!” 

The Galran merely smiled and clicked a button. Instantly, the unbearable crushing on his wrists was gone and the chains binding his hands together under behind the wall fell with a quiet tinkle of metal. Keith instantly surged to his feet, his feet free as well, and charged the Galran, fists ready to punch him square in the face and-

The Galra clicked the same button. Instantly, Keith’s shackles sprang together, the cuffs at his ankles and wrists coming together by some sort of magnetism _.  _ Keith let out an undignified shout of alarm and crashed to the floor. His jaw hit the ground after the rest of his body, his teeth snapping together loudly. Copper flooded his mouth and Keith recoiled at the taste of it. 

The Galran chuckled and leaned down, his wrists resting idly on his large knees. He observed Keith like a prize and in response, Keith spat blood in the Galran’s face. 

“I like your fire, Red One,” the Galran said, undisturbed by the crimson now splattered across his cheek. “Let us see how long it will take to douse it.” 

Keith didn’t give the Galran the satisfaction of answering. Instead, he was grabbed by his manacles and dragged, kicking and shouting from the room. 

 

_ Twenty-four hours earlier… _

Keith leaned back in Red’s pilot seat. 

He was waiting for their queue to blast off, awaiting Shiro to get himself situated before boarding Black. Keith would be patient with his best friend - his brother - as, after all, they had just gotten him back. Keith had found him slumped in the Black Lion’s hangar, about to embark on a mission to liberate a Galra-controlled planet. 

Keith never would be able to describe the joy that filled him at the sight of Shiro. While he had said that he wanted Keith to lead Voltron, should anything happen to him, Keith was undoubtedly the worst leader ever. His brief bond with Black had thrown the team into jeopardy and even forced Allura to pilot Blue for a time. He was reckless and impulsive, chasing after the most ridiculous of missions despite the team’s exhaustion. 

Shiro had come back though, and everyone had gone to their original lions, including Allura. Lance had been ecstatic to find Blue’s barrier down and she seemed equally as pleased to have her chosen paladin returned. Keith’d had the same reunion with Red, and she wouldn’t stop purring in the back of his mind for weeks. 

But the residual bond with Black remained and Keith tapped into that as he waited. He heard Black’s comforting purr, her boundless patience as Shiro sat in her chair, trying to relax. While he had been back for a good three weeks now, he had only gone on test-flights with Black to rejuvenate and solidify their bond. This would be their first big mission - an entire prison break of a Galra ship as a part of Pidge’s endless quest to find her brother. 

“Okay, guys,” Keith would never get tired of hearing Shiro’s voice now that he had almost lost him  _ twice.  _ “I’m ready. Let’s go!” A roar from the other lions was his answer and Keith pulled on the familiar handles of his lion and she was out in space before he knew it. 

Red was good to be back in. While Black was large and powerful, Keith didn’t have the same bond with her as he did with Red. Flying Red was instinctive. Natural. Keith didn’t have to think, he just  _ did  _ and Red would answer accordingly. It was wonderful. 

The Galra ship before them was large, and while this wouldn’t be their first jail-break, it would definitely be their largest. As well, Pidge had reason to believe either Matt himself was on board or at least intel about him. There was no way that Keith was going to let this mission go wrong. 

The Lions flew in formation. Voltron was their last-ditch effort, should things not go according to plan. It was ‘Plan B’ as Coran called it, where their mission was to slash and hack and save as many people as they could. Keith thought they seemed to resort to Plan B a lot. 

Pidge made the instigating blow, a laser landing its mark against the hull of the Galra ship. It lurched - a terrible creaking and groaning of metal. Keith thought of the alarms that surely must be blaring inside. If the prisoners inside heard it and allowed hope to swell in their hearts for the first time in months. 

Red dived at Keith’s silent command. She weaved through the battalions of Galra Fighters that had come to fight at the warden’s behest and made straight for the ship, as was according to plan. 

He could sense rather than see the Green and Blue Lions tailing him. As the largest lions, Black and Yellow would stay behind and hold off the fleet as best they could. The prisons never had much security as the actual Galra fleets they fought, so Keith had absolute faith in Hunk and Shiro to do their part. 

Red rammed face first into the hull of the ship. Keith jumped into action immediately, sending a silent thanks to her as he leaped out of the seat and ran from the cockpit. He met Lance and Pidge in the hallway of the ship and went tearing down the hallway, bayards in hand. 

Keith could have used his Marmoran blade, but something about the hilt of it under his calloused palms was unfamiliar. He knew it was given to him by his Galran parent or even his Galran ancestor, but he still didn’t like the way it fit in his hand. 

“Okay, Pidge,” Keith said as they paused. Keith pressed his back to the wall and peeked over for approaching sentries. All of them were tasked with the fight outside, it seemed, not like Keith was complaining. “Where are we going?” 

“The cells are just above us,” her little voice came from behind him. Keith turned to see her and Lance crouched next to each other, both of them observing the small hologram that was scanning by information too fast for Keith to read. “There are elevators, but those will take too long. Our best bet is the stairs.” 

“Lead the way.” 

Pidge did, taking the initiative and running down the hallway. Lance and Keith were hot on her heels, both of them with their bayards out and ready to attack at the first signs of trouble. Everything seemed fine for now, despite Shiro and Hunk calling out shots to each other through the comms, but even that seemed minor. Perhaps despite the ship’s size, it wasn’t all that effective either. 

Keith should have known better. 

As they swung up into the second floor, they were greeted by a practical army of sentries, as if waiting. Keith was first to act, leaping forwards with his bayard flashing in his hand and morphing into his sword. He came down hard on one sentries head, cleaving it nearly in two in a shower of sparks and machinery. 

The room exploded into chaos after that. 

Pidge and Lance followed Keith’s lead. Pidge hooked and electrocuted everything she could see while Lance laid down helpful covering fire from a safe distance. Keith was at the forefront of the destruction, a shower of sentry arms and legs the only path to his destruction. Keith was quick to clear a path but knew more was on the way. 

He turned to Lance and Pidge, desperation in his eyes. “Go!” 

Pidge understood, the cruciality of the mission and the desperation of finding anything on her brother outweighing her better judgment. It was Lance who paused, his shots stopping as he stared at Keith incredulously. 

“What?! You can’t be serious?” 

“We’ll never get through these sentries in time to get the prisoners!” Keith gritted his teeth as a sentry met his blow with a sword of its own. “Go! I’ll meet you back at the lions!” It took Lance a moment but he did finally nod and adhered to Keith’s wishes. He tore after Pidge, who was already halfway down the hallway. No sooner than they had gone then another swarm of sentries came pouring in from doors on all sides of Keith. He was surrounded. 

Keith flipped his sword in his hand, trying to relax his breathing. His palms were getting sweaty and despite their attack patterns, these sentries hit hard. Keith had already suffered a few wounds in from the earlier battles with them. Now he had to fight an army, single-handedly, and get out in time to meet up with Lance, Pidge, and the prisoners. 

No pressure. 

As soon as Keith launched himself at the first one, it stepped back and they all parted down the middle. Walking through them were a set of druids, hooded, masked, and still as terrifying as Keith remembered. He squared his jaw, hardening his gaze into a glare. 

Coming from behind the druids was a large Galra. He was clearly the warden of the prison, carrying handcuffs and ammunition on his belt, holding a Galra blaster in both hands. He leveled his gaze at Keith, who suddenly felt very small. 

Unwilling to show weakness, Keith leveled his blade at the newcomers. The odds were stacked horrifyingly against him, but if he could just stun the druids and the warden long enough for him to cut a path through the druids, maybe he could get back to Red in time. 

He felt a concerned whine press into the back of his mind. Keith leaned into it, trying to gain what comfort he could out of this suddenly hopeless situation. 

The druids hissed at him, circling Keith in the wide circle the sentries had formed around him. Keith watched them carefully as the warden observed Keith with an obvious snarl. Keith tightened his grip on his bayard. 

“Such a fool,” said the warden. “Allowing your friends to go on without you. Now, you are alone.” Red pressed in again, disregarding the Warden’s words. She reassured Keith that he was not alone and if any one of his aggressors laid a finger on him she would not hesitate to come to his rescue. 

Keith squared his jaw, confidence restored. Red was here. And Lance and Pidge wouldn’t abandon him. “You’re wrong.” 

“Then allow me to prove it,” the warden said. “You Paladins were fools to come to liberate this prison. We are not only the most secure but…” his eyes gleamed with deadly promise. “Most of our prisoners are those foolish enough to trifle with us.”  As one, the druids surged forwards. Keith pivoted to counter them, but when six pairs of gnarled hands descended upon him, all he knew was pain. 

A strangled scream echoed from his lips as his bayard vanished from his hand. The comms crackled as the panicked voices of his friends - his family - filled his ears. The lightning that came from the druid’s hands was white hot, seeping through Keith’s bloodstream and turning everything into a garbled mess of screaming and horrible pleading. 

“Keith!” 

The hands drew away. Keith collapsed onto one desperate knee, trying to use Shiro’s voice to ground him. He couldn’t muster the strength to respond, his throat dry and hoarse from his desperate struggle to get those horrible hands off of him. 

“That is only a fraction of what we will do to you, Paladin of Red,” said the warden. He moved forwards as the Druids used unseen magic forces to wrestle Keith to his knees. The Warden reached over, pulling Keith’s helmet from his head. He tossed it aside and it hit the wall with a clunk. Keith could still hear the distant panicked voices of his friends. 

Keith raised his eyes to meet the Galran’s defiantly. He curled his hands into fists, struggling fruitlessly against the druid’s invisible hold upon him. 

“I will break you,” the Warden promised. “And you will never be the same.” Keith knew it wasn’t smart to agitate an alien, especially an already pissed off Galran warden. But Keith always had trouble listening to that  _ logical  _ side of him. He tended to lean more into the  _ reckless, let me piss off anything within three feet  _ instinct, and instead, he hardened his glare and tugged hard on his invisible bonds. He met the Galran’s gaze and opened his chapped lips. 

“Bring it on.” 

The warden’s face contorted into something akin to anger. He raised his fist and then everything went dark. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS GONNA BE GOOOOD
> 
> So season six happened! I wasn't prepared for what happened. But the Black Paladins was so well written, and the way they wrote both Keith and Shiro in that episode was so fucking good. That episode alone made Keith skyrocket into my favorite character (aside from Lance). He handled the situation so well. 
> 
> Anyways, Keith has gotten captured! We'll see what happens to him in the next chapter and who greets him when he wakes up again. We also get Shiro's reaction to it, and since their bond is just that powerful, his reaction will be just as dynamic. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Leave a comment/kudos if you did, it's really what keeps me going as a writer. I'm going to be trying to update every Saturday, but we'll see what happens. If you know me, my update schedule is about as consistent as a fish
> 
> You can find my Tumblr [here](https://chocolatechip-master.tumblr.com/) so if there's a certain one-shot/topic that you want me to write, just throw an ask into my inbox! :D


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith's captor is given a name to go with his face. One who is not afraid to hurt - or even kill - the Red Paladin. Meanwhile, Shiro loses his brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't beta-read, so all mistakes are on me! 
> 
> Enjoy!

For a bit, Keith tried to make it as hard as possible for the Galran to drag him through the hallways. He struggled, hooked his leg on the wall every time they turned a corner, just so the Galran would have to put a little more effort into moving him. He tried asking questions but learned pretty quickly his captor wasn’t interested in answering them.

All Keith could really do was be as annoying and struggle as much as possible. In hindsight, Keith was reminding himself of Lance. Although the Blue Paladin would have been even more annoying, singing ‘ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall’ or ‘the song that never ends’ at top voice volume for all to hear.

The thought of Lance made Keith’s heart wrench. He wondered if the other Paladins were looking for him because clearly, they hadn’t gotten to him in time because he was in _this_ situation. Was he even in the same ship anymore? All the hallways in Galra ships looked the same, so for all Keith knew, he could have been in Central Command.

“Where am I?” He asked for what felt like the hundredth time. “Where are you taking me?” He tried to make himself sound commanding. Like he wasn’t the one currently being dragged in chains across the floor. However, the Galra just tugged harder and Keith flinched, an aching pain flaring through his wrists. They were already in bad enough shape from the tightening and untightening of the cuffs.

He let out a quiet hiss against his will and finally fell silent. He was afraid any more pressure could snap either one of his wrists, and the dragging was not helping his case.

The Galra gave a harsh tug to Keith’s bonds and paused outside of the door. Keith glared up at him, watching as he pressed a clawed hand to the wall. The door next to them slid upwards into the ceiling with a quiet hiss. Keith craned his neck, trying to see inside. The room was glowing a dark purple, like most rooms in this god-forsaken ship. If Keith squinted, he could see some sort of medical table

Keith thought fast. There’d be a moment - a brief moment - where he’d be unchained and have free reign of his arms and legs. As soon as he was released, he had to go for the Galra’s unprotected side, taking the remote that controlled his bonds and find the release button.

From there?

Keith didn’t know where the escape pods were. Or any of the fighter jets. Since Red wasn’t here, he wouldn’t have an easy way back to the castle either. His best bet after getting into a jet was heading to a planet a part of the Voltron coalition.

Keith was hauled uncomfortably to his feet. The Galran pushed him forwards, towards the table as the cuffs on his legs sprang apart. Keith glanced down. Having a limited range of his fists put a damper on his plans, but that wouldn’t stop him. He had to get out and get back to the others. The universe - quite literally - depended on it.

Keith pivoted on his heel. The Galran raised an eyebrow as if expecting this and raised the hand with the remote in it. Keith’s eyes flashed to it and in an instant, he dove the Galra. He staggered, crashing to the ground and taking Keith with him. In the next moment, Keith straightened up, keeping his knees on either side of the Galran’s body. He reached for the Galra’s outstretched hand across the floor. His fingers grazed the remote, grabbing at it desperately. While disoriented now, the Galran certainly wouldn’t stay that way forever. And as soon as he had regained his bearings, it was practically game over for Keith.

Keith grabbed the bottom of the remote and tugged, but the Galran’s grip tightened around it. In an instant, he had flipped their positions. Keith’s back hit the ground with a loud thud, prompting a cry from him. The Galran used one enormous hand to wrap around Keith’s throat and _squeezed._

All the air left Keith in one strangled gasp. His eyes went wide, and any thought of escaping was blown out the window. His airway was decidedly constricted, the Galran’s strength nearly crushing his windpipe. Keith fought to take breath, thrashing and pulling, black spots dancing in his vision. His mouth was open, but all the air was trapped there, unable to go on and supply his body with the oxygen it needed. The blood in his mouth seemed much to thick on his tongue and was practically choking him on its own, copper tickling its way down his sealed airway.

Darkness was creeping in on his vision. He was gasping for breath, his hands wrapped around the Galran’s thick wrist. Was he going to suffocate? Was this really how he was going to die?

What a stupid way to go.

Keith shut his eyes tightly, unable to keep staring at the Galran’s leering grin and eager eyes anymore. If this truly was the end, he wanted the images of his friends - no, his family - painted on the back of his eyelids.

“Laynek!”

The Galran jerked. His fist left Keith’s throat and the Red Paladin couldn’t stop himself from keeling over and coughing. He drew in deep gulps of air, sincerely grateful that someone had chosen to walk in. Perhaps they heard his sputtering noises and came to investigate. Even better, maybe it was a Blade of Marmora operative here to save him and bring him back to the other paladins.

Keith raised his gaze, daring himself to hope. Instead, standing over him, was quite clearly another Galra, regarding Keith panting on the floor with distaste. He tried to meet his gaze evenly, a glare just on the surface, but another coughing fit forced him to curl in on himself, spasms wracking his whole body.

 _Quiznack,_ he’d almost just _died!_

The other Galran turned his unforgiving gaze to the Galra kneeling beside Keith - the one who had nearly choked him. He was given a name, Laynek, if Keith had heard correctly. He was a bit surprised he had heard any name at all, given that all motor functions had gone to fighting off the much larger threat that had been choking him.

“Apologies,” Laynek said, but he didn’t sound very sorry. “The half-breed has spirit.”

 _Half-breed._ Laynek had called him that before, back in the cell Keith had woken up in. It should have been impossible for anyone but Keith and the other Paladins to know of his Galran heritage. Unless the druids had done something to make it all too apparent? But his hands looked normal. His feet and his chest looked normal. So how did they find out unless they ran some strange space genetic test on him?

Laynek turned to glare at Keith. Keith met his gaze as evenly as he dared, eyes narrowed. He was not going to let these Galrans defeat him. No matter what.  

“The druid will be here soon,” said the other Galran. He was now inching into the room and Keith could see the sneer spread across his face as he observed Keith, crumpled on the floor and still taking in deep, raspy breaths. “Finish preparing him. We cannot have our special guest unprepared for their interrogation.” His words made the hairs on the back of Keith’s neck stand up. Laynek nearly nodded, sneering and hauling Keith to his feet.

Unable to fight back, Keith stumbled over to the table. The copper taste in his mouth was nearly unbearable now and he half wanted to spit it out. The sandpaper in his throat had only gotten worse from swallowing some of it earlier.

 _God_ he was thirsty. But he was _not_ going to give up his dignity and ask for water. Over  _his dead body._

The door clicked shut as the other Galran left. Leynek shoved Keith unceremoniously on the cold table, rolling him over onto his back. The chains seemed magnetically attracted to certain spots on the table, and they slid into place with a quiet click. Keith pulled weakly, but as expected, nothing happened. At least the cuffs weren’t tightening with every subtle pull he made anymore.

The table was cold too, chilling Keith’s skin. He shivered. His cell was just as freezing and if he was going to spend a lot of his time in Galra captivity _freezing,_ he was not going to be happy.

Something told Keith that being cold was going to be the least of his worries.

Laynek gave Keith a toothy leer. “You’re going to give us some answers, half-breed.”

“Why do you keep calling me that?” Keith shot back.

“Surely you know of your own Galran heritage?” Leynek’s grin widened. “The druids made sure to inform us as soon as you were transferred here.”

_Transferred here?_

At least two of his questions were answered. Unfortunately, it opened up a thousand more. At least Laynek was answering them now. Perhaps Keith could glean information from him, the kind of things that would be essential to his escape.

“‘Transferred here?’” He repeated. “What do you mean?!”

“A foolish Paladin and his team had the gall to assault one of our high-security prisons,” Leynek said. “They took our prisoners and in return...we took one of their own.”

 _Took our prisoners._ The mission was successful. Regardless of what the consequences had been, they had freed dozens, maybe hundreds of Galran prisoners. Keith couldn’t stop the grin from curling his lips up.

Laynek, however, was not amused. He raised his hand and struck Keith across the face. The slap made Keith recoil, his cheek stinging with the force of it. His eyes squeezed shut and he bit down hard on his lower lip to contain his small cry of pain.

“You will not be smiling for long, Red One,” Laynek snarled. “Soon, you will give us what we want. And I can promise you, you will never be the same.”

The warden back at the prison had said something similar and Keith half wanted to snort and say ‘bring it on’ again, but his stinging cheek was a painful reminder of what happened. Instead, Keith, matched the Galran’s glare with his own, trying to show the most defiance he could. Laynek’s sneer melted into something far more sinister (bloodlust, perhaps?) and he drew away from Keith.

Keith watched him leave, trying to calm his racing heartbeat. Something truly awful was coming for him, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to find out what it was.

 

“Keith?! _Keith!”_

Shiro’s strangled yell echoed into the comms. There had been a short scream, a horrible cry that Shiro had heard all but once in his youth, back when Keith had been fourteen and Shiro himself was twenty-one, fresh from the Garrison. Back when he stumbled into a clearly private _session_ with Keith’s foster parents. The bruised, bloody skin, the terrified amethyst eyes, the scream of his name as Shiro burst down the door.

Shiro didn’t know which situation was worse. Keith’s comms had gone dark, a quiet hiss of static where his voice should have been. Shiro’s heart skipped a terrified beat.

_Keith._

The little boy he’d taken out for ice cream, watching fascination spread across his face as he tried rocky road for the very first time.

_Keith._

The boy who got into fights too often for his own good, leaving Shiro to constantly vouch for him to keep him in the Garrison.

_Keith._

That wonderful pilot, who had flattened Shiro’s record in the simulator on his second try. Nearly single-handedly, too, becoming the pilot, the engineer, and the communications officer all in one.

_Keith._

The boy of extraordinary skill, who exuded nothing but _love_ and a fierce protectiveness to save those he cared about more than anything. Had Keith known? Had he sent Lance and Pidge ahead so they would not suffer his same fate?

_Keith._

The name repeated in Shiro’s head. A mantra. An image of the scared little boy with purple bruises painting his skin and a teenager nearing his adult years, wishing him well the day of the Kerberos Mission.

_Not Keith. Anyone but Keith._

Shiro knew that was selfish. He knew he couldn't wish that fate upon anyone, as a survivor of the ring. But Keith had already suffered so much - too much - and he had made a promise. He had promised to never give up on him, promised to stay there, promised to _protect him._

“..iro! Shiro!”

Right. Shiro had a team. He was a leader. He had to focus. He had to _lead._ They had one shot at saving their red paladin, and Shiro was not missing it.

But the gargled scream played again in his head. A terrible noise of pure _agony_ that Shiro had only heard Keith made _once._ Every other time, it was pained grunts. Quiet groans that could barely be heard unless you were really listening and when it came to Keith, Shiro was _always_ listening.

_Keith._

“Shiro!” Lance shouted. “W-We have the prisoners! We’re loading them on Blue now but Red...Red’s going crazy! And Keith just…” He heard the audible swallow. A quiet swear in Spanish, but Shiro was not listening.

His gaze was fixed on the Red Lion, who was tearing into the prison hull with her claws, a silent roar echoing in open space. If Red was acting so impulsively, Keith had to be in trouble. She was the most fiercely protective of her Paladin, obvious from her impromptu leaves from the castle to go rescue Keith from a mission gone haywire, or a dumb solo infiltration Keith had tried to organize and execute on his own.

The Red Lion released another roar, firing a laser from her mouth into the ship. Explosions riddled the surface. Keith’s strangled yell echoed again.

The ships began moving. Green and Blue broke away from the hull as the prison ship began to shift, moving faster and faster.

“We can’t let it escape,” Shiro heard himself saying. “Everyone, on that ship! They have Keith!” Lance swore colorfully in Spanish again. Hunk was first to react, using the heavy armor of his lion to bash roughly into the side of the ship. It creaked and groaned, but the metal did not give way.

Yellow tried again, but the metal merely dented. Hunk, however, thinking fast was already swinging into action. Yellow’s laser came forth, bursting into the side of the prison with large bursts of fire and artillery. Green and Blue were quick to join, their Paladins desperate to save one of their own.

Red continued ripping at the ship. Swatting and snarling, she was a wave of destruction. Her bond with Keith was deep, deeper than anyone had expected, and she was not going to let her Paladin go so easily.

Shiro burst into action. He forced himself to act, guiding Black to the ship as fast as he dared. Black’s claws sank into the metal, gripping and pulling. Shiro was half ready to leave his lion and go running for Keith himself.

Blood pounded in Shiro’s ears. He couldn’t hear the others shouting, calling out shots as they tore into the Galra ship.

They would save Keith. They _would._

A crackle of the comms. An accented voice.

“Paladins!” Allura. “You must get out of there! Now!”

“What?!” Pidge’s answer was close to a scream. “Over my dead body! They are not leaving with Keith!”

“The prison will not hold for much longer!” Allura shouted. “If it continues on its current path with you five attacking it, then it will explode! There will be no chance of saving Keith then.” Shiro half wanted to ignore Allura and keep tearing into the metal until he had Keith safe in his arms again. His family, his _little brother_ was on that ship. All protective instincts were screaming at him to get on that ship and _save him._

But he also knew Allura was right. Should an explosion occur, Shiro wasn’t sure Red could get to her Paladin in time.

Keith would _die._

A grudging pull on his Lion’s controls pulled Black away. She roared in the back of his mind, a fierce protectiveness for her former Paladin pressing in hard into Shiro’s consciousness.

“I know,” he murmured. “I know. We’ll find him, though. We will _save him.”_ He spoke the words with conviction and began backing away. Blue, Green, and Yellow followed suit, and while Red continued tearing into the ship, her movements seemed sluggish. Weaker, somehow until she tilted over sideways and did not move again.

The sight made a terrible taste rise to the back of Shiro’s throat. The prison pulled away, drifting slightly to the left with one of its engines torn out by Red’s rage.

“All right team,” Shiro’s voice was thick with grief. “Grab Red and tow her back to the castle. Let’s...reconvene in the control room. Figure a plan out. Figure something _else_ out. I... _we_ won’t let Keith stay there for longer than he has to.”

There was a chorus of affirmatives and Yellow and Blue moved to grab Red by the back and pull her listlessly back to the ship. Shiro felt the familiar weight of _despair_ settling into his chest. Too heavy. Too much to bear.

He had just let his little brother become a casualty of this war. Another prisoner in the Galran’s hands. As a regular human prisoner, Shiro had suffered through enough to give him nightmares that forced him to not fully sleep through the night. As a Paladin of Voltron, though, what would they do to Keith?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, Keith you are in for some suffering. 
> 
> I hope Shiro's reaction here was believable. Some might argue that he'd go after Keith regardless, but Shiro strikes me as the type to put the mission before the person. Also, if they kept attacking Keith was at a very real risk of dying there. Good thing they didn't huh? Space explosions are nasty 
> 
> Next chapter Keith suffers some more. What fun! 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Leave a comment/kudos if you did. I'd love to hear from you! 
> 
> You can find my Tumblr [here](https://chocolatechip-master.tumblr.com/) so if there's a certain one-shot/topic that you want me to write, just throw an ask into my inbox! :D


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith continues to show defiance in the face of absolute hopelessness, especially when his worst fears are confirmed and a realization that tears at his confidence is revealed. 
> 
> The Paladins discuss what to do next, where to go, what their plan is. Problem being, they can barely get over their own grief and fear long enough to talk about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't beta-read, so all mistakes are on me. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Keith got a few precious moments of peace and silence that he absolutely _relished_ in before anyone else came to bother him.

His skin was chilled by the table, goosebumps all up and down his arms. He wanted his shirt back, maybe his full armor and bayard too, just so he could rub a little bit of warmth back into his freezing joints. But he couldn’t. Hell, he could barely _move_ which was more annoying than anything. If his hands were free, he knew he’d already be on a pod and heading home. He’d get to see his friends - his _family_ \- again.

His windpipe was constricted still, his breaths still shallow and raspy from Laynek’s earlier assault. Occasionally, he’d feel phantom fingers on his throat and his breath would hitch, making an uncomfortable gasping noise that did _not_ sound healthy. Keith was sure that if the other Galran hadn’t interfered than Keith would have died, choked to death on an alien ship. His wrists still ached, the bones tender and sending white-hot flares up and down his arms every time he moved them wrong. Keith had a strange feeling that this pain was only the beginning.

The door slid open with a loud hiss. Half expecting Laynek again, Keith opened his eyes, turning a hardened glare in the direction of the door. Instead, with a sweep of her cloak and long white hair in tresses around her face, Haggar entered.

Keith’s heart pounded in his ears.

He had never personally met the witch. All he knew of her was of the few things Allura had said and Shiro’s quiet ramblings in the middle of the night when nightmares kept him from the comforting hands of sleep. But stories had been enough. Keith feared her, probably more than he feared Zarkon. Does she lead the Galra Empire in place of Zarkon now? The Paladins had defeated him, so did that mean she was calling the shots here?

Would her cruelty know no bounds now that she was the one in charge?

Haggar’s hood covered most of her face, obscuring her from view, her hands hanging limply at her sides. But if she raised her head, Keith caught a glimpse of empty yellow eyes that bore into his very soul.

“The Red Paladin of Voltron,” her words came out in a deadly hiss. “What an honor.” Keith wished he could have mustered up the courage to come up with a snarky comeback, or at the very least a glare. Instead, he stared at her, eyes wide with surprise and fear, all though Keith hoped she couldn’t see the latter.

Haggar circled him. Keith suddenly felt very vulnerable, lying splayed on the table with no way to break free of his chains. She was observing him like some kind of _prize_ or _experiment_ like he was a wonderful specimen of the highest variety.

Haggar ran a single, long finger over Keith’s face. He recoiled at the touch, flinching without meaning to. Despite everything, Shiro was still the only person in the universe that was allowed to touch him whenever he pleased. The fact that Haggar reached out, crossing boundaries Keith had set up to protect himself, was _horrifying._

“I have orders,” Haggar crooned. “You are not to be killed. But I have heard tales of your spirit, Red Paladin, and I do so like a challenge.” Her finger reached up, twisting in his hair and _pulling._ Keith was suddenly strongly reminded of a foster sister that liked to do just that - tugging and ripping at his hair and giggling when he pleaded with her to stop.

 _Focus._ Keith told himself. Pushing the memories away, he focused on the tip of Haggar’s hood. She said she had orders, which meant she was not the one in charge of the Galra Empire now. But if she was not, who was? Haggar was Zarkon’s right-hand woman. The witch that was present for every one of his battles, ready to protect and kill to get what she desired. Who outranked her in terms of power that she was not able to become the leader of the Galra Empire?

“Orders?” Keith forced himself to speak through the terrible tugging at his hair. Haggar’s long nails were scratching his scalp and it fucking _hurt._ “From who?” He tried not to think of how his voice sounded. It was hoarse and scratchy, likely from the residual effects of Laynek’s assault and it sounded almost _nothing_ like him.

Haggar sneered. “So the Paladins of Voltron have not been informed of who now rules the Galra Empire?”

“If I knew, I wouldn’t be asking you,” Keith shot back and instantly bit his tongue to keep from crying out as Haggar’s grip tightened. She pulled, and Keith could _swear_ he felt his hair being ripped out, strand by strand.

“Crown Prince Lotor,” Haggar said. “Emperor Zarkon’s _son.”_

Keith’s eyes went wide. Zarkon had a _son?!_ One that was now currently taking his father’s place as leader?!

“Fear not, Red Paladin,” said Haggar. “It is only temporary until my Lord recovers and reclaims his throne.”

_Temporary._

The word echoed in Keith’s head, bouncing in his skull.

_Temporary. Temporary. Temporary._

Zarkon wasn’t really dead. They had failed. Shiro going missing, Keith taking the reins as leader for a month, and all the suffering they had been through was for _nothing._

_Failed, failed, failed._

Haggar laughed, high and cruel. Like knives on a chalkboard. “I can sense your fear, Red Paladin. You won’t have to worry for long. For you are never leaving this place. We will prune all the information from you and by then, you will be nothing. Nothing but a _husk.”_

Keith’s hands curled into fists. They pulled against the bonds and his aching wrists flared with a new pain. Haggar was underestimating him and underestimating him _hard._ While Pidge, Lance, Hunk, and Shiro were all stubborn in their own _wonderful_ ways, but Keith? Keith was the most stubborn of them all.

To him, Haggar’s threat was a challenge. A challenge to break him, tear him down of all he was and toss him aside to _die._

Keith’s wrists felt like they were going to snap under the pressure he was putting them through again. Pain flared through his arms, but he ignored it, meeting Haggar’s gaze in a glare that he hoped was more ferocious than he felt.

This was a challenge then? He was nothing but a toy, a plaything, for Haggar to rip information from and use for her and the Galra Empire’s gain?

Well then, _challenge accepted._

 

The bridge was silent.

Allura was pale and guilty-looking, Pidge wasn’t meeting anyone’s gaze, Coran was unusually silent, Hunk was twisting his hands together, and Shiro’s arms were wound so tightly together they looked like a pretzel.

And Lance?

Lance didn’t know what he was supposed to feel. Keith was his rival. The guy on the ship he was supposed to hate and butt heads with _constantly._ Equal in skill (that was debatable) and dealing insults, it was always Keith and Lance, neck and neck.

But this? This wasn’t what Lance wanted at all. Sure, he and Keith had their differences, but he had hoped that only Shiro would know the true extent of the cruelty of the Galra. No one else on the team would have to suffer through what Shiro had to. But here they were - a broken team. Paladins of Voltron missing their red pilot.

It was now too crushingly silent.

“I must apologize.”

Allura was the one who spoke. She lifted her eyes, kaleidoscope eyes swimming with tears and Lance felt his heart wrench to the side uncomfortably. He hated seeing Allura cry. It was especially prominent in the month that Shiro had been gone and Keith had nearly torn himself to pieces trying to find him. Allura had been strained, trying to balance her new duties as Paladin and duties to the Voltron coalition. Lance had caught her in tears more than once in the privacy of the bridge and her own bedroom as Lance was trying to get her to eat something.

Eyes jumped to her as she stood, hands clasped in front of her and shoulders slumped. She usually looked so composed, so regal. To see her so unhinged and quiet was uncharacteristic and foreign for all of the Paladins, even Coran.

“I forced you all to abandon Keith,” Allura’s voice cracked. “I-I did so under good intentions but I fear the consequences of my actions are...all too apparent.” She glanced between each Paladin as she spoke, lingering longer on Shiro than anyone.

Lance followed her gaze. He felt for Shiro, he really did, but he couldn’t even imagine the pain their Black Paladin must have been in. Keith and Shiro were close - closer than anyone else in their little space family combined. They had known each other before all of this, and Keith falling apart after Shiro went missing was testimony to that. Now that Keith was gone, they were getting to see Shiro’s side of their relationship.

Lance hated seeing it. Shiro was crumbling. It was like watching an enormous, sturdy mountain, fall into little bits of rock and dirt. Where Shiro once stood proud and commanding, he now stood, slumped and grey eyes dull and unfeeling.

“It’s not your fault, Princess,” Coran spoke. His voice sounded tight and strained. Like he was too busy trying to keep himself together to really focus on what he was saying. “You were acting in the Paladins’ best interest. If they had stayed and kept attacking for a tick longer, there would have been no Keith to save.”

“Coran is right,” The sturdiness of Shiro’s voice surprised Lance, and it wasn’t just him. Pidge’s head jerked up in surprise and Hunk paused in his fidgeting. “You did what you could, Allura. What’s done is done. Now we have to get him back.”

“With what?” Hunk asked. “We...we don’t know where that ship is and last I checked, Allura doesn’t have a spiritual connection to us Paladins like she does with our Lions.”

Shiro’s expression sank into deeper despair. Hunk immediately looked like he wanted to take his words and cram them back down his throat. Lance reached out, trying to put a bracing hand on his best friend’s shoulder, but he didn’t. His motion fell short, hand falling to rest by his side.

“ _Oh Dios_ _mío_ _,”_ he said quietly. “What do we do?”

“I-I can...build something,” said Pidge. “Like...a Paladin tracker...or something. I-I don’t know how or how long it will take o-or if I have the right parts or…” She trailed off, unable to finish. She was quivering and the sight of their littlest Paladin falling to bits right in front of him made Lance’s protective big brother instincts kick in. He crossed the room in two long strides and enveloped Pidge in his arms. She turned her cheeks to hide in his chest, her shoulder trembling with unspoken sobs.

“We’ll figure it out,” said Lance, trying to sound confident. “We’ll get him back.Okay?” Pidge only nodded, unable to respond without her voice cracking horribly. Allura looked over at the two embracing and Lance met her gaze. Tears still sparkled in her jeweled eyes.

“Yes,” Allura said. “We will.” Lance gave her and the rest of the Paladins what he hoped was a bracing smile. One to ground them in their time of need. All but Shiro returned it hesitantly, and Hunk even went as far as to join in on the hug between Lance and Pidge.

The computer started to beep. Coran hurried to it, pressing a few buttons. The team waited in silence, wondering if it was a distress call. Lance began to think about whether or not they were even mentally _ready_ to handle something like this, especially when they couldn’t form Voltron without their right arm.

“Princess,” Coran’s voice had suddenly gone tight. Attention shifted to him. “It’s a transmission.”

Allura’s gasp was audible. “From whom?”

Coran turned to her. The darkness in his expression told Lance it was nothing good. “It’s from the Galra. And our Red Paladin is at the forefront of the screen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor poor Keith. He can't seem to catch a break, and with this story just starting, it's unlikely he'll ever get one. At least, not for a long, long time. 
> 
> I wanted to write something from Lance's point of view, as Lance is also my favorite character, and I think how he would take Keith vanishing like this would be interesting. He's also probably feeling guilty too, letting Keith push him into running for the prisoners instead of fighting with him. Something to delve into next chapter, perhaps? Or a bit later, as there's an important transmission to get through. 
> 
> Next chapter we return to Keith, his desperation and acceptance of his completely and utterly hopeless situation. Y'know, hopeless for now. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading! Drop a comment/kudos if you did, I love reading your feedback! 
> 
> You can find my Tumblr [here](https://chocolatechip-master.tumblr.com/) so if there's a certain one-shot/topic that you want me to write, just throw an ask into my inbox! :D


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the presentation of a transmission to his team opened up to him, Keith tries desperately to convey a message to them. Meanwhile, Shiro watches as Keith crumbles, almost far too much like the little boy he met all those years ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't beta-read, so all mistakes are on me. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Keith met Lotor sooner than he would have liked.

Haggar was on the far side of the room, tinkering with potions and bottles of her own design, murmuring to herself in a language Keith wasn’t familiar with when the door slid open again. Keith snapped his gaze to it immediately, tensing, wondering if it was Laynek back again to choke the ever-living daylights out of him, but he was horribly wrong.

Instead, the figure that entered the room was tall, with magnificent white hair that tumbled down his back, a single strand hanging perfectly between his eyes. His skin was flawless, ears too pointed to be Galran, and moved with a grace of perfectly calculated movements.

Keith _hated_ him.

Haggar turned to face the incomer and a sly smirk spread across her face at the sight of him.

“Ah, Prince Lotor,” she said. “How kind of you to finally join us.”

Keith struggled, ripping his still-sore wrists upwards. His bones cried in protest, creaking and groaning, and he was sure if he continued to try and pull this any longer he was going to break both of his wrists, which would put a serious damper on his escape plans.

Lotor’s eyes, yellow in the same way that Haggar’s were, but also a beautiful violet that observed Keith, restrained and struggling on the table.

“Haggar,” he spoke and Keith felt the hatred he felt beneath his skin bubble just a little bit more because _really,_ an _accent?!_ How more pretentious could this guy get? “Is this our guest?”

“Yes,” Haggar was addressing Lotor with all the respect of a Galra general. If this were Zarkon, Keith was sure her voice would be lowered reverently. Clearly, Haggar herself was not happy with this power swap.

He could use that to his advantage. Somehow.

“And what have you gotten from him?” Lotor asked. His tone was casual. Almost as if he were asking the state of the weather.

“Nothing so far,” Haggar strode back to Keith. A single finger trailed it’s way up his face, leaving a burning feeling in its wake. Keith snapped his teeth at her finger, glaring up at the witch and then turning it back to Lotor. “The Red Paladin has spirit. I must subdue that before we can get what we _really_ want from him.”

Lotor hummed, looking Keith up and down. “He does not look Galra.”

Keith’s blood ran cold. So Lotor knew too. Had the druids that examined him put up his half-breed status up for all to see? Was there some bulletin board in the middle of whatever ship he was on with an announcement?

How fucking _humiliating._

“No,” Haggar agreed. “And yet it is true. Galra blood runs through this one’s veins, though his outward appearance remains human. It is curious. Perhaps we will find answers during the interrogation.”

“No,” said Lotor. “I would like to make a message. To Team Voltron.” Keith’s eyes widened in shock. He lifted his gaze to Lotor’s astonishment swimming in them. Lotor’s lips curled upwards, amused at his actions, but he did not say anything.

Haggar turned. “And why is that?”

“I would...like to bargain with them,” Lotor leaned over and took Keith by the chin. The touch was anything but gentle, and Keith struggled to pull his head away with the small amount of movement he had been allowed. “Their Paladin...for Voltron.” He smirked, looking up.

Keith’s heart skipped a beat. _No. No._ He was not _worth_ that. He was a screw-up kid from the deserts of Texas. He was _not worth that._

The team would never agree to those terms. They would understand, they would find a new Red Paladin. They would have to. There was no way Keith was worth giving up the universe’s only hope. He _was not worth that._

Lotor must have read the panic in his eyes, the true fear because he laughed and a single thumb reached out to brush against Keith’s cheekbone.

“Fear not, Red Paladin,” he whispered. “You’ll find another way to save the universe, I am certain.” Keith glared at him in response. Lotor turned to Haggar. “Set up a transmission. I’d like to show the Paladins what will happen to one of their own, should they refuse to agree to our terms.”

Keith felt panic flare in his heart as Lotor turned to leave, the door hissing shut behind him. Haggar appeared in his vision, her long fingers splaying over his forehead.

“We must prepare you,” she crooned. “I’d hate for your fellow paladins to think you will return unscathed while in our care.” The sentence made Keith’s heart skip a terrible beat, and he tried to regain his courage.

Suddenly, the chilling cold on the table was the least of his worries.

Haggar tilted his head back. His jaw opened unwillingly and she poured one of her concoctions down his throat. He gagged on the taste of rotten egg, but she clamped his mouth shut, forcing him to swallow to rid himself of the taste. As soon as he did, he wished he hadn’t. Fire raced up his veins and a scream wrenched itself from his throat.

His entire body felt like it was turning to ash, melting into a pile of gore, blisters popping and reforming under his skin, _in his bloodstream,_ in an endless painful cycle. He writhed on the table, his whole body’s nerves, organs, everything melting into a pile of blood and gore.

It was over as quickly as it came. Keith said there, gasping and gargling on his own screams, as the residual effects of the potion began to fade. After a moment, Keith began to realize the pain was gone. His arms didn’t feel like lead, and burns did not coat his skin. He looked at Haggar, astonished when he realized that everything he felt must have been _in his head._ He had imagined the pain. Something in the potion had hardwired his brain to bypass ‘suspicious liquid’ and dive headfirst into ‘soul-searing agony.’

“What...was that?” Keith said through gritted teeth.

“Preparation,” said Haggar. “A potion to test your mental defenses. It seems you have quite the knack for understanding when such things are only in your head, even if you may not realize it.”

“What?!” Keith demanded. Haggar’s smile was answer enough as she dropped the potion on the table next to her with a metallic tinkle.

“We will get all you know, Red Paladin,” Haggar said, promises in every syllable. “And then, you will be _nothing.”_

Keith didn’t reply. His tongue felt like it had swelled in his mouth. The taste of blood was strong in his mouth. He must have bitten down on his tongue. His dry throat felt like it was on fire, the screaming doing nothing to help it.

Haggar smirked, jerking Keith’s chin roughly so his own amethyst met with her cold yellow gaze. She observed him, like prey, nothing more than a test subject.

The door hissed open for what felt like the millionth time. Keith felt a familiar surge of hope that it was someone here to rescue him. But he heard the light footsteps, saw a flurry of white hair in front of him, and realized it was only Lotor. His posture was held tall, regal. He was the spitting image of royalty and the way he held himself reminded Keith of Zarkon if bit more relaxed. Both were powerful. Both not to be trifled with.

Behind him was Laynek, smirking over at Keith with cruelty in his gaze. His hands curled and uncurled at his sides and he moved to stand next to Keith’s head. A threatening omen of what was to come. Possibly if Keith tried to escape again.

God, Keith was _so fucked._

“Come, Red Paladin,” said Haggar, releasing his chin. There was a click and she was hauling Keith to his feet. His bonds were still tugged together by magnetism, but he was at least standing now. “We have an audience now, don’t we? We do not want to...disappoint them.” Keith swallowed, trying to moisten his dry throat and glanced at the camera now rising to meet them. It clicked on with a red light, indicating it was rolling. Keith’s eyes widened in shock. Could they see him? His team?

He had to talk to them. Get some sort of message out to them. He opened his mouth to speak, but Lotor got there first. He spread his arms, accented voice light and conversational.

“Greetings, Paladins,” said Lotor. “I am Crown Prince Lotor, heir to Emperor Zarkon. As it must be all too apparent to you now, but your Red Paladin is in my care.” He glanced at Keith, one perfectly sculpted eyebrow quirking up at the vicious glare that Keith sent him. “Regardless, I do not think you want him here for long. That is why I am prepared to make a trade.”

“Guys,” Keith’s voice was working before he could stop it. “Guys, don’t listen to him, _please_ I’m _not worth this-”_ The next noise he made was a strangled yelp as Laynek’s fist crashed into the side of his head. Keith’s head snapped back, and stars burst to life in Keith’s vision. His head swam, but Keith forced himself to _stay focused._

He had a mission to do. One of the utmost importance. He couldn’t falter now. He had to let them know that he was not worth staking the entire fate of the universe on. He was _not, he was not._

“Guys,” Keith croaked again. “Guys, Allura, Coran, Shiro-Shiro _please.”_ He was begging now, his voice borderline desperate. He knew Shiro was torn to pieces about what had happened to him, and he didn’t doubt that he looked awful. But whatever Shiro was prone to do in his grief-induced state (Keith himself had nearly fallen apart when Shiro went missing, hardly in the castle for long, favoring to go search for their missing leader at any given opportunity instead) he could not risk the fate of the universe for a single Paladin, especially when they could just find a new one.

He was replaceable. Voltron was not.

Laynek’s fist came again. This time, it landed in his stomach and Keith stumbled backward into the table. He moved instinctually, wanting to grip the table, but his hands bound in front of him disoriented him. He crashed to the ground gracelessly, cuffed hands catching him in his fall. His aching wrists screamed at the impact, bones creaking horribly. He let out a strangled gasp of pain and Lotor glanced back at him with a sneer. Keith, realizing he had been forced to his knees, returned Lotor’s gaze with a glare of his own. Laynek grabbed the back of Keith’s head, yanking it back, pulling and tugging on his hair until his head was tilted upward to look directly into the camera.

He tried to communicate with his eyes. Conveying all the desperation he felt with sight alone, silently begging, _pleading_ for his team not to do this. He _was not worth this._ He was a troublemaker, a foster kid. The fate of the universe was not worth his life.

“As I was saying,” Lotor said, voice mocking. Keith turned his gaze from the camera back to the Galran prince. Leynek noticed the motion and his grip tightened around Keith’s hair. Keith winced, clamping his lips shut against the whimper that followed. “I am preparing to make a deal. The life of your Red Paladin…” He gestured dramatically to Keith, kneeling uncomfortably on the floor, hands and feet bound by metallic cuffs. “For Voltron.”

Keith looked into the camera lens, wishing he could shake his head desperately. Allura he knew was capable of piloting Blue. Lance was able-bodied enough to pilot Red. They had replacements already.

_Keith was not worth Voltron._

He was not worth the one hope the universe had been allowed in ten thousand years. He was _not._

“I await your response,” said Lotor. “Send one within the next two quintants or...you can say farewell to your Red Paladin.” He waved his hand dismissively and Laynek shoved Keith’s face forwards, smashing his nose into the ground.

He let out a loud cry of pain, not expecting the following kick into his ribs. He slumped over sideways, assuming a familiar protective curl he had adopted far too much in his youth. Laynek’s next blow was against Keith’s cheek. Adding a bruise to his face to the list of _things that currently hurt like hell,_ Keith shut his eyes tightly.

“As you can see,” Lotor sneered. “I am quite serious. And, if you do get him back, we have no guarantees of whether the Paladin you lost is the same one that you will gain.”

He waved his hand. The red light on the camera switched off and Lotor leaned down to look at Keith with a smirk that split his handsome face, making him look akin to a monster. Keith glared at him through the pain making his head swim.

“And now,” Lotor’s voice was low. “Let the fun really begin.”

 

Shiro could hardly breathe.

Coran pulled up the transmission. They stood silently, taking in the scene before them. They appeared to be in some sort of laboratory, the walls just as purple and blank as Shiro remembered. Standing in front of a medical table was an unfamiliar Galra with unblemished skin and white hair that fell down to his waist in perfect streams.

Next to him was Haggar, her head bowed as it always was, a slight hunch in her shoulders. A little way beyond that was a Galran, large and imposing, with muscles enough to rival even the sturdiest Balmeran. And next to him…

“Keith…” Pidge breathed.

Keith looked no worse for wear, aside from a bruise blossoming on his forehead and horrifying finger-shaped bruises on his neck. Shiro’s stomach did uncomfortable somersaults.

“C-Can he hear us?” Hunk asked. “Can he see us? C-Can we talk to him?”

“I’m afraid not,” Coran said. “This is a one-way transmission. We can see and hear them, but it is quite the opposite for them.”

“Keith…” Shiro found himself whispering. Keith looked so scared, so _frail._ It reminded Shiro frighteningly of the little boy he had met all those years ago.

“Greetings, Paladin,” the well-dressed Galra spoke. “I am Crown Prince Lotor, heir to Emperor Zarkon.”

“Heir?” Allura repeated. “Zarkon...Zarkon has a _son?!”_ Shiro swallowed. Zarkon had a son who, from the looks of things, had no issues harming or killing the Paladins of Voltron.

 _Keith…_ Shiro’s gaze flickered to him again. Keith was staring at the screen, something desperate blooming in that amethyst gaze. Did it have something to do with what Lotor was going to say next?

“As it must be all too apparent to you now, but your Red Paladin is in my care.” Lotor continued. Keith sent him a glare fierce enough to kill. “Regardless, I do not think you want him here for long. That is why I am prepared to make a trade.”

“A trade,” Lance repeated next to Shiro. His arms were tightly crossed, blue eyes narrowed in distrust. “I don’t like it.”

“Me neither,” Pidge agreed.

“We have to hear him out,” Allura said. “If there is a chance to get Keith back, we must take it.”

“Guys,” a broken voice. Slightly strained and hoarse but _definitely_ Keith. Shiro’s gaze snapped back to the transmission. The desperate look he had seen Keith make was _different_ now. More scared. More determined. “Guys, don’t listen to him, _please_ I’m _not worth this-”_ He let out a choked gasp of pain as the large Galran standing next to him lashed out. A fist landed squarely in Keith’s jaw and his head lurched sideways.

“Keith!” Shiro shouted, unable to stop himself. All though he knew Keith couldn’t hear him, the sight of his _little fucking brother_ standing with his head snapped to one side, eyes screwed shut from pain was _heart-wrenching._

 _I should have never left him with the Galra,_ Shiro thought, a cold fist squeezing his heart.

“Guys,” Keith croaked again. “Guys, Allura, Coran, Shiro-” The Black Paladin’s breath hitched at the mention of his name. “Shiro _please.”_ He was looking directly at the camera and Shiro caught his gaze, all though Keith couldn’t see it. Whatever proposition Lotor was about to make, Keith was clearly against it. Gaze shifted to their leader as Shiro’s hands curled into fists, his prosthetic arm creaking with the motion.

The Galran’s fist descended again. Shiro actually took one step forward, hand reaching out as if he could pull Keith away. Instead, the red paladin’s knees buckled as a fist sank into his stomach. He stumbled backward, hands moving to grip onto something. His balance thrown off, Keith crashed gracelessly to the floor.

Allura gasped, her hands flying to cover her mouth. Tears were swimming in her kaleidoscope eyes again. Next to Lance, Pidge unconsciously drew closer to him, Hunk moving to stand like a protective ward over them all. Coran remained impassive, shaking hands gripping the sides of the controls with far more force than what was necessary.

The Galran marched forwards. Shiro watched him grab Keith roughly by his hair ( _Don’t touch him._ Shiro thought viciously) and drag him to his knees. His head was tilted painfully upwards, eyes locked with the camera. He was trying to say something, something he wasn’t able to communicate with words.

“As I was saying,” Lotor said, turning back to the camera. His voice was laced with traces of amusement. “I am preparing to make a deal. The life of your Red Paladin…” He gestured dramatically to Keith, kneeling with his head tilted backward and gaze directly on the camera. “For Voltron.”

Allura’s breath hitched. Shiro’s eyes jumped to her. He knew what she was thinking. There was no way in hell they could give the Galra Voltron. Not in a _million_ years. But Keith was their bargaining chip. A way to get the team to do what they wanted.

They had a _damn good_ bargaining chip.

Keith was trying to say something again. Unable to speak without getting beaten, he was trying to communicate with gaze alone. Shiro recalled Keith’s desperate words before he had been kicked to his knees. He wasn’t worth it?

It all made sense now. Keith didn’t think he was worth saving, or at the very least his life was not worth the universe’s only hope. But Shiro had made a promise to Keith, a promise to be there, to protect him, and he was determined to fulfill it, especially in the Red Paladin’s greatest time of need.

Shiro would get Keith back or die trying.

“I await your response,” said Lotor. “Send one within the next two quintants or...you can say farewell to your Red Paladin.” He waved his hand and the Galra with his claws in Keith’s hair shoved him forwards. Keith let out a loud cry of pain as his nose smashed into the floor.

“Keith!” Shiro’s cry was joined by the others. They took a collective step forward, but Coran remained impassive and silent at the console. His finger hovered over the ‘end transmission’ button, clearly unable to take any more.

The Galran kicked Keith hard in the ribs. Keith yelled again, a terrible cry of agony that echoed in Shiro’s head. He slumped over sideways, assuming a protective curl, pulling his cuffed hands in close to his chest. Keith’s eyes slid shut, head bouncing as he received a punch to the jaw.

Lotor made a ‘hmm’ noise, clearly satisfied with his Galra lackey’s work. “As you can see, I am quite serious. And, if you do get him back, we have no guarantees of whether the Paladin you lost is the same one that you will gain.”

Lotor waved his hand. There was a crackling noise (Shiro fixed his gaze one more time upon Keith) and the transmission cut out. The image of Keith, curled up in a protective ball to keep himself safe, remained imprinted on the Paladins’ minds.

“Was that live?” Pidge whispered. Her face was now partially pressed into Lance’s side, Hunk’s arms encircling them both. Shiro glanced at Coran for the answer, who had his head bowed over the console. His shoulders were shaking.

“Coran?” Allura pressed lightly. Her eyes were still full of horrified tears at what they had just witnessed.

“Yes,” Coran said finally. His voice was quiet, dull. Most unlike the usual exuberant man that he was normally. “It was.”

“ _Mierda,”_ Lance swore. Shiro’s Spanish wasn’t all that good, but he knew that most of the words that followed as the Blue Paladin's grip around Pidge tightened to the point where it looked a bit painful. 

Hunk winced. “Easy, Lance. Calm down." 

“No, I’m not going to calm down!” Lance’s grip tightened around Pidge’s little shoulders. “He’s got the audacity to take our friend, our _brother,_ and then use him like a bargaining chip. Keith for Voltron! We can’t make that trade! We _can’t!”_

“But we have to,” Shiro knew how desperate he sounded. “We can’t leave Keith in the hands of the Galra-”

“But we can’t give them Voltron either,” Lance said. “Look, Shiro, I want Keith back as much as you do, but this is the universe’s only hope we’re talking about here.”

“There has to be some way to get around Lotor,” Pidge whispered. “Some way to get Keith back _and_ keep the Lions.”

“We cannot underestimate him,” Allura warned, dabbing at her wet eyes with her sleeves. “If Lotor is clever enough to get even Haggar under his thumb, then he is not to be trifled with.”

“What do we do then?” Hunk’s voice was quiet.

“ _Oh Dios_ _mío,”_ Lance said again.

“We have to figure something out,” Shiro said. “In the meantime, send a transmission to Lotor. We’re agreeing to his terms.”

Allura turned to him, eyes wide. “Surely you are not thinking of handing him Voltron, are you?”

“Of course not,” Shiro said. “Coran, how long will it take for you to set up a transmission?”

“Only a few ticks,” Coran said. None of his usual mirth was in his voice. Only an old soul suffering from pain that shouldn’t be his own. “What is your aim here?”

Shiro’s hands curled into fists. “We’re not giving the Galra Voltron. But we can’t let them keep Keith either.”

“Yeah,” Hunk nodded in agreement.

“All right team,” Shiro said. Determination flared in his gut. There were going to save Keith, no matter what it took. He wouldn’t be in the Galrans’ hands for longer than he had to be. “Let’s meet back here in fifteen minutes. We have a teammate to save.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shiro's starting to get a plan to get our red boi back! Buuut that's not going to before Keith suffers for awhile. 
> 
> I really hope Lotor came off as how I wanted to in this chapter. He's a smart, cynical character who had ulterior motives that benefit only himself in most situations. He's got plans for Keith, especially with him being half-Galra. None of those are good, let me tell you that much. 
> 
> Next chapter we return to Keith and that good good suffering. 
> 
> Anyways, I hope you stick around! This thing updates on Saturdays, so I hope to see you there! And I really hoped you enjoyed the chapter, leave a comment/kudos if you did! 
> 
> You can find my Tumblr [here](https://chocolatechip-master.tumblr.com/) so if there's a certain one-shot/topic that you want me to write, just throw an ask into my inbox! :D


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haggar's attempt at information ends in failure and she has Keith sent to a place called 'Room 105'. 
> 
> Little does Keith know, Room 105 is worse than he could have ever imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't beta-read, so all mistakes are on me. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Haggar’s gnarled fingers smoothed back the wrinkles on Keith’s forehead. It didn’t work, as the glare that she had just wiped away returned ten-fold a moment later. The transmission with the other Paladins of Voltron had ended a little over an hour ago, and Haggar and spent the entire time analyzing Keith, watching and humming silently to himself. Like she was taking his measurements.

Granted, Haggar hadn’t made him drink any more golden liquid that made his insides turn to fire. All though all of that had been in his head, Keith shuddered at every whisper of pain that flickered across his gut when he thought about it. It may have been false, but the pain was very much real.

Haggar’s fingers traveled to Keith’s temples. Massaging and seizing them up, she let out a satisfied noise and turned away. Keith’s glare cut into her back and he pulled on his bonds. He had been strapped back to the table after the transmission, as Lotor left and Laynek hefted him to shaking legs. His skin was unbearably cold again, all though at this point he was getting used to it.

Lotor had left with a flick of his long hair while Laynek moved to observe in a corner and Keith had realized with a sinking feeling in his gut that the message had gone through. The others had seen him and gotten his message, as garbled and pain-filled it was. Shiro must have hated seeing it, but that wasn’t what Keith was worried about.

They weren’t coming. The team wasn’t going to send the message Lotor was so interested in getting because they knew the stakes. They understood what was at risk here. Keith was not worth Voltron. Hell, they could just have Lance pilot Red again and that would be that. Keith would stay here-

No.

Keith wasn’t going to stay here, that was for damn sure. He was going to get out. Where he was going to go, he had no idea. He couldn’t stay here though, he’d die here, the team knowing their place and understanding that they couldn’t come for him. Keith was on his own here, which was exactly where he was used to being.

“Red Paladin,” Haggar whispered. Keith flinched without meaning to, her yellow eyes looming into view. “It is time to begin. I’m going to ask you a few questions, and you will answer.”

“And if I don’t?”

Haggar’s smirk was his only answer. Her long gnarled fingers settled onto his temples once again. “Let us start out simple. What is your name?” Keith clamped his mouth shut. He was not going to tell her anything. She was not going to get a word out of him, nothing on Shiro, Lance, Hunk, Pidge, or anyone else in the castle. She would get _nothing._

A moment later, Keith was proven wrong.

Haggar’s hands began to glow on either side of his head. It looked like it was supposed to hurt, but a light sting was all Keith felt. Confused, he tried to shake her off by wiggling desperately. Haggar persisted, hands tightening their grip almost painfully on either side of his head. He had time to wonder what she was doing when he realized that he was not alone in his head anymore.

It felt like fingers were reaching in through his skull, probing and pressing in on his mind. Peeling his brain apart bit by bit, layer by layer, trying to find an answer. Keith, caught off guard, could do nothing to fight off the fingers now grasping at a word - a name. His own.

 _Keith._ He thought unwillingly.

“Keith,” Haggar repeated. “How fitting.”

 _Fuck,_ Keith thought.

“Now…” Haggar’s fingers drummed on his temples, the glow fading away. _Thump, thump, thump,_ a steady beat against his skull. A thought occurred to Keith that Haggar wasn’t just thinking about what to ask next, but rather trying to distract him from shielding from her next attack. Keith tried to pull his thoughts away from the beat against his temples, but it was difficult. Haggar was good at what she did.

Keith tried to pull his head away, but with his ankles and wrists chained to the cold table, he had limited movement. Again, Haggar’s hands tightened, fingernails carding into his hair and scratching the skin. He hissed in pain.

“Voltron’s greatest weakness,” Haggar hissed. Her lips were next to his ear. She had bent down to address him personally. “Tell me it.”

The fingers came again, pulling and probing along with the glow of Haggar’s hands. Keith was prepared this time, pushing back against the fingers. He envisioned slamming a door shut, protecting him from anything that could hurt him, like he did at the foster homes. His angrier families would slam up against them with their full body weight, demanding he let them in and-

_Not the time._

But the memory seemed to slow the fingers. Their progress was slower now, more confused. The more doors Keith closed, the more confused Haggar’s progress seemed to be.

Keith had an _upper hand_ here.

He continued thinking. Miscellaneous things that had no connection to each other. The scent of Shiro’s cologne. The smell of his cabin in the middle of the desert. The blankets he’d pile on himself to keep warm. _Anything._

Haggar drew away with an irritated hiss. Keith fought the urge to smirk as her fingers _finally_ left the sides of his head. His head was now thudding with a dull pain, but at this point, he was starting to get used to it. He glanced up at Haggar, who was watching him with an unreadable expression. Something flickered in her eyes, some kind of horrible interest before she turned to Laynek.

“I have made a mistake, thinking he would be broken so easily,” she said. “Take him to Room 105. See how he fares in there.”

Keith had time to wonder what Room 105 was before Laynek was upon him. The cuffs were released from their magnetic holds instantly snapped together by Laynek’s controls. The Galran was clearly not taking any chances with Keith, especially after the earlier incident. It wasn’t like Keith was going to fight back. He could hardly find the strength to stand.

It felt like Haggar had sucked the energy out of him. His legs shook, hardly able to support his body weight. He felt so weak, the sandpaper in his throat and rumbling of his stomach suddenly much harder to ignore. He stumbled and collapsed, his shoulder hitting the ground first. It popped horribly, sending prickles of pain all up Keith’s neck. He gritted his teeth as Laynek snorted above him.

“Pathetic,” he rumbled, grabbing Keith by the manacles and dragging him pitifully from the room. Keith would have liked to say he saw the sinister grin that spread across Haggar’s face at his weakened state but…

He didn’t.

 

Room 105 was closer than Keith thought it was.

Keith half expected to get dragged past his cell and beyond, but he didn’t. Instead, Laynek had turned two corners, dragged Keith up a flight of stairs, and stopped in front of a door. It was the only door on the landing, Keith realized. The rest of the hallway ended just a little bit further on.

A staircase that led up to one room.

_What was in it?_

Laynek pressed his hand to the wall. Keith glanced up at his own, wondering if there was a similar pad on the other side of the door. He had Galran blood so he could find his way out of here if his hands were free for longer than a moment.

At least Keith had a _start_ on his escape plan.

Laynek tossed him into the room a moment later. Keith tumbled in, rolling, his bare skin touching - surprisingly - cloth. His head jerked up at the sensation and he looked around, still lying uncomfortably on his side with his hands bound in front of him. He appeared to be in the Galran version of a padded cell. Everything looked the same as the ones on Earth, but the walls were all a dull violet

 _Man_ Keith was really starting to hate that color.

Laynek entered the room after, and with a quick glance to either side of the door he came to, Keith realized with a sinking feeling that there was no identification scan on this side of the door. He wasn’t getting out that way.

From his belt, Laynek produced a pair of what _looked_ like headphones and approached Keith. He froze for a moment, panic coursing through him. Anything Laynek was approaching him with was sure to be nothing but pain. Every time the Galran had touched him, he had brought nothing but pain with it.

Keith scooted away, using his legs to shove his whole body away from Laynek until his back hit the padded cell wall. Laynek’s eyes gleamed, lips splitting into a grin. He reached over, clamping the headphones tight around Keith’s ears. For a moment, Keith allowed himself to be surprised. If he was honest, he had expected something far worse. He wasn’t sure what else Laynek could have done with those headphones, but he also knew the Galran was capable of getting creative with punishments.

Keith opened his mouth, probably to offer some witty retort, when Laynek wrapped a blindfold around his eyes, tying it underneath the headphones and knotting it practically in his hair. Any words died in his mouth as Laynek drew his hands away. His vision now gone, occupied only by a black expanse that scratched at his eyelids and face uncomfortably. He winced, demanding what on Earth was going on when he realized with a jolt in his stomach that he couldn’t hear anything anymore, not even his own voice.

 _The headphones,_ Keith realized. _They’re noise canceling. Which means the blindfold…_

Keith’s suddenly didn’t feel very hungry anymore. He understood what Room 105 was now.

Sensory deprivation. They were taking his hearing and sight away.

Oh _shit._

Panic flooded Keith and he pressed himself more firmly against the wall. The padding sank under his weight as he desperately tried to reach the knot of the blindfold. His bound hands could not reach over his head, however, as he thrashed, suddenly feeling very claustrophobic. Were the walls closer than he remembered? The door farther away? And was Laynek still in the room, observing him with a laugh he could not hear?

Keith could feel his chest rising and falling rapidly, heart thundering against his chest so hard he feared it’d break loose. _Too fast,_ he thought vaguely. C _alm down._ But he _couldn’t._ He couldn’t see anymore and the blindfold was tied too tight for him to grab and pull down his face. His fingernails scratched his forehead, trying to find purchase in the fabric and likely leaving angry red trails in their wake.

Keith was never afraid of the dark. When he was a kid, his father would sit next to him in the room and say that the darkness didn’t hide the monsters, it hid him. He was safe in the dark. Nothing could touch him there.

This was different, though. He was in space, on a Galran ship, somewhere in the middle of the universe. He was not home anymore and his father was no longer there to hug and hide him from the world until he was ready to return and face it.

Keith’s forehead was stinging. His tightened airway wasn’t getting enough air into his lungs as he abandoned his attempt to get the blindfold off and instead reached for the walls. He ran his hand over them, memorizing the plush texture and using it to ground him.

_Patience yields focus. Patience yields focus. Patience yields...focus._

Gradually, Keith began to calm himself. He could work with this ( _Could he?_ A traitorous voice in the back of his head asked) and he’d get out okay. This had to be another test, right? Another attempt to break him, force him to give out information about Voltron, about the other Paladins.

Well, it wouldn’t _work._

_Breathe._

Keith sucked in a deep breath. He couldn’t hear it due to the cursed headphones, but it did do a little to help calm him down. His headache pulsed in his ears, the only sound the roaring of his own bloodstream in his ears. His forehead stung and he was left wishing he had tried pulling the blindfold away when he was more composed.

Keith had no idea if Laynek was still in the room. If he had watched Keith’s breakdown, roaring with laughter, finding Keith’s miserable situation amusing. If he was, Keith furrowed his eyebrows in the direction of what he _thought_ was the door. He had to focus. Had to think. There was no way he was going to get out of this situation without some sort of way to keep himself sane.

First things first, he had to figure out the layout of this cell. It was different than Haggar’s experimentation room, or the cell he had woken up in. They must have never used this room because it smelled faintly of dust. Or at least the alien version of dust.

Keith struggled to his feet. It was much harder than it should have been, as being blinded, deaf, and had his hands and legs bound by magnetic cuffs made everything much harder, but he did manage it. He kept both hands pressed to the wall awkwardly, wrists aching as he turned them unnaturally to feel his surroundings.

He hopped around (he briefly wondered if there was a camera, observing his movements as he teetered around the cell. Was Haggar watching? He banished the thought soon thereafter) memorizing each wall. Everything felt the same, but his mental map of everything put the room in a solid square. He figured he’d made a full round of the room by the time his hand brushed over the door twice.

He tried searching for a handle, but it looked like the inside of the room didn’t have one. Or maybe it did and Keith was just pressing his hands awkwardly against the outsides of the door, looking like an idiot. There was one thing that made relief seep into Keith’s bones at his wanderings: Laynek was clearly no longer in the room with him.

Keith realized then he had no other option. He had to wait. Wait until someone came to get him, drag him back to Haggar for another mind-probing session.  

He hobbled back to a corner of the cell and collapsed, chest heaving with the exertion of hopping around the cell for so long. He curled into a ball, elbows pressed uncomfortably into his abdomen, to regain any semblance of safety. Being blinded and deafened wasn’t doing anything for his nerves, and he felt so high strung that he could snap at any moment. He lay his head own, the left ear of the headphones sinking into the padding. It was far from comfortable, but Keith didn’t dare move. Not when he couldn’t hear or see anything. He preferred having his back pressed up against something. At least when he was released from this room, he’d know no one was sneaking up on him.

Keith shut his eyes, all though he wasn’t sure what that would do. He could hear his own breathing now, which was nicer than listening to his bloodstream. It was hoarse and shallow, his windpipe still recovering from Laynek’s attempt on his life. His breathing wasn’t the only thing Keith could hear. It was his heartbeat, too. It was steady, a reminder that he was _still alive._ The Galrans wouldn’t break him. He’d get out somehow. And then he’d go home.

Keith’s shoulders slumped. His body ached, bruises already forming on his skin from the Voltron transmission. He didn’t realize it before, but now that he’d gotten time to himself, he realized how much his body _ached._ He had no idea how long it had been since he had been captured, but _damn_ he’d been through so much. And it was clearly only the beginning.

Once the Galrans realized the sensory deprivation and Haggar’s mind tricks weren’t working, what would they do? Would they turn to less conventional methods to get the information? Would they use the other Paladins against him?

Keith didn’t doubt it. If Shiro was any indication, the Galrans had no qualms about hurting and ripping people apart piece by piece to get what they wanted. They had no indications of ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ and Keith hated to say he was one of them.

Keith pressed his back more firmly against the wall, his elbows now sinking uncomfortably into his hip bones. He tried to force himself to sleep, unable to think about his horrendous situation any longer.

He was just so, _so_ thirsty.

 

Room 105 was a room that very few people were ever able to come out of and tell the tale coherently. It was the perfect room, the best way to break even the strongest of prisoners.

Which was why the Red Paladin’s reaction surprised Haggar so.

She watched him thrash for a few minutes, shaking and scratching at his blindfold with his cuffed hands. His motions were so erratic, so _desperate,_ that Haggar had made the mistake of thinking that they had already broken him. And then, he had stilled. He pressed his hands to the walls of his cell and _explored_ it, even keeping a remarkable mental map of the layout.

Haggar had been so _excited._ No one had ever had that reaction. Everyone else has melted into a screaming, pleading mess, begging to be set free. They’d promise to tell Haggar anything if she just let them hear and see again.

But not the Red Paladin. He slumped into the corner, assuming a protective curl, and kept his head bowed. Haggar had no bearing on whether the Paladin was asleep, but his tense posture indicated that he was, in fact, awake. She wondered what was going through his head. Fear? Paranoia? Perhaps even an escape attempt. Haggar would love to see what lengths he would go to to free himself from her grasp. 

He was a half-breed. He could operate the Galra doors and make his escape all that much easier, and from what little information she had groomed from his mind, he was an incredible pilot. He could get out of the base and steal one of their fighter jets before anyone knew he was gone. Haggar had to ensure the he’d never be left alone, bonds always strong enough that even the most powerful of Galrans couldn’t break free. 

Keith was his name? Haggar’s lips curled into a smile. She couldn’t  _ wait  _ to see what other surprises this Keith had in store for her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sensory deprivation? Sign Keith unwillingly up. 
> 
> This thought occurred to me while writing the transmission, and after a bit of research, I think it came out well. Keith is the type of person who would rely heavily on sight and hearing in order to be comfortable. He needs to be able to trust his senses to feel safe, especially after what his foster homes and his other experiences out in space have taught him. Take that away, and what do you get? 
> 
> A scared, panicking Red Paladin with no way to understand what's going on around him. Keith has to rely solely on touch, which won't do him much when the entire room is padded. Everything feels the same. Oops? 
> 
> The update schedule might become a bit less consistent from here on out. Classes have started up again and I have very little time to write, which sucks. But thank you still for sticking around with me! Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Drop a comment/kudos if you did, I would love hearing from you! 
> 
> You can find my Tumblr [here](https://chocolatechip-master.tumblr.com/) so if there's a certain one-shot/topic that you want me to write, just throw an ask into my inbox! :D


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith bides his time. 
> 
> Lance and Pidge think they could have done better. 
> 
> Allura unveils the plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't beta-read, so all mistakes are on me. 
> 
> Enjoy!

How many hours had passed? Keith honestly wasn’t sure anymore.

He felt like he was going insane, his headache even worse than before. The headphones clamped around his ears were beginning to hurt, and his pounding bloodstream was tiresome to listen to for hours and hours on end.

Keith tried to sleep, but he couldn’t bring himself to relax long enough to let his mind achieve that level of relaxation. Especially not when he knew what was on the other side of the door he couldn’t see. He tried fumbling for the headphones more than once, but he could never get a good enough angle on his ears with his cuffed hands. He ended up making awkward grabby-hands at his ears, unable to slide his fingers underneath the headphones that felt _fused_ to his ears.

His throat was paper dry, but he still refused to give in for water. His pride would not allow him, no matter how humiliating his position was. It also didn’t help that his windpipe felt strangely constricted; like there was a tiny string around his neck tightening with time, cutting off his air supply ever so slowly. Keith breathed in deeply every time, but the feeling was always _there._ The bruises on his skin pulsed from his awkward position against the padded walls, the ones on his neck hurting the most.

Keith knew what was going on. They were going to leave him here until he broke and gave in. Begged for the blindfold and the headphones to come off. Little did they know, however, Keith was too damn stubborn to give in too easily.

Keith let out a low hiss, partially out of pain as he shifted, and partially to hear something other than the heartbeat that felt like it was drumming against his skull. The headphones were practically crushing his skull, tightening against his flesh the longer they were there. Keith knew that was only an added side effect of having noise-canceling headphones on for an extended period of time, but _fuck_ it hurt.

Keith shifted again. He put his chained hands closer to his face, elbows now digging into his thighs. He pressed his back firmly against the wall to feel at least the tiniest bit more secure.

He tried thinking over the roar of his blood in his ears. He really did, but it was hard when all he could really focus on was that obnoxiously loud sound. At this point, Keith would have to do what he did best when faced with an impossible situation - improv.

Laynek had to come in at some point to take off the blindfold and the headphones. In that instant, Keith would have to strike. He had underestimated Laynek’s strength once. He wouldn’t do it again. He’d get the control box, unchain himself and…

And then what? He’d run? Open every door he could see with his Galra genes and hope he’d find a hangar?

 _Good job, me._ Keith thought. _Solid plan._

But he’d still been able to get out of situations like these (all though not this severe) by thinking on the fly and going with his instincts. They hadn’t failed him before, and they had no reason to do so now. The only issue was waiting.

Keith had never been too patient.

 

Pidge’s tiny fingers trembled upon her laptop.

Coran had sent out a transmission a little over an hour ago. A response that only he, Allura, and Shiro had been present for. She, Hunk, and Lance were told to make themselves useful in whatever way they could during the recording. In Lance’s case, it was taking a four-hour long shower that would use up all the hot water, and as for Hunk, he’d bake himself into a coma.

But Pidge? Pidge didn’t do well with idling and _waiting_ for something to happen. She was a doer, unable to sit still with the image of Keith sitting with those horrible finger-shaped marks on his throat sat in the back of his mind. It was like a bad childhood photograph - only ten times worse and depicting a teammate she had come to see as a socially-awkward, albeit protective older brother.

“Meet here in fifteen minutes, he said,” Pidge muttered, directing a glare to the door in front of her. “Won’t be long, he said. It’s been an hour and the door is _still fucking closed.”_

The door to the bridge had been sealed from the inside as soon as Coran had said he was ready to begin the transmission. If she really wanted to, Pidge could hack into the door and waltz in like she owned the place, but she stopped herself. Something told her neither Shiro nor Allura would be impressed with her hacking skills this time.

“ _Fuck,”_ Pidge hissed, leaning over her laptop. She was pouring over star system after star system, a horrible feeling settling deep into her gut. She trusted Shiro - she really did - but she couldn’t wait for Lotor’s next message to come back to them in the form of another near-torture video sent from an untraceable location.

Pidge had tried. She’d done everything she could think of to trace the signal. She’d turned it backward, upside down, forwards, put it through every single decoder she had. Nothing was _working._ She was reduced to pouring over the crude map they had made of the Galran movements, trying to find where that prison ship could have hyper-spaced off to.

Pidge almost snorted at her own reference.

The first few weeks (months? Time was hard) in space, Pidge remembered herself and Lance constantly cracking Star Wars references. They named aliens the Castle wasn’t able to identify after creatures from that universe and delighted in the confusion it caused their two Altean companions. Hunk and Shiro played along, but only rarely, while Keith had been so utterly _lost_ Pidge was almost insulted. The poor boy hadn’t seen Star Wars, or any move considered a _classic_ for that matter.

Lance eventually was the one to sit Keith down in the lounge for what he called a ‘movie night’ where he had somehow managed to pull every Star Wars film out of the castle’s computer. Lance had put it on a holographic screen he had practically  _begged_ her and Hunk to set up for him and threatened to tie Keith to the plush couches if the Red Paladin even  _thought_ about leaving the room.

They had watched Star Wars together that night. It was one of the crowning moments of their relationship as  _everyone_ had joined in. Allura and Coran included.

Now, they all made Star Wars references together. Allura and Coran were less subtle about theirs, but it was a familiar banter Pidge only felt when she was with her brother. That night, she finally understood what her father had meant by his crewmates feeling like family. Except this was different. The bonds shared between the Paladins and their Altean guides ran deeper than what Commander Holt had recalled with a fond, almost  _whimsical_ expression settling over his face. This was an actual  _family,_ not a pseudo one to replace what they had temporarily left behind on Earth.

And  _that_ was why the situation back at the prison ship bothered Pidge so.

She felt so  _guilty._ The feeling was like a parasite, eating away at her until she felt nothing but the all-encompassing regret that coated her insides. She felt dirty, like the situation had slathered her insides with something she’d never be able to truly wash out.

This was  _her fault._

She’d had a one-track mind at the moment. The only thing that Pidge cared about was Matt, and he hadn’t even been on that ship. She’d gotten faulty information, and for that, she’d paid the price. She just wished she’d realized how hefty of a price it was.

“ _Fuck,”_ she said again, more vehemently than last time. Half the syllables hardly left her mouth correctly. It was more of a ‘pfk’ noise if anything.

Her fingers moved faster. _Damn_ Lotor and his stupid  _perfect face_ and his dumb ship that had taken Keith hostage. Pidge was to blame for this situation, and she had to be the one to mend it. To make things  _right._

_Somehow._

The door hissed open. Pidge’s head shot up only to see Shiro exiting. His eyes were red-rimmed, like he was on the verge of tears, but he gave her a steady smile. Pidge’s momentarily forgot her own guilt in place of Shiro’s well-being. She knew how close he was to Keith. Keith hadn’t been afraid of voicing that during their leader’s absence.

_“Shiro’s the one person who never gave up on me!”_

Pidge’s fingers curled at the edges. Keith’s voice echoing those exact words back at her felt so real - too real, if she was being honest. The image of Keith, frail and with finger-shaped bruises marring his throat, appeared again. The sight made her stomach twist painfully.

_“Guys please I’m not worth this!”_

Pidge resisted the urge to shudder. Keith had sound so scared, so unlike his usual composed self that it was damn near terrifying to hear his voice break the way it had. He was so sure, so certain that his life was less than what it actually was. He thought himself replaceable. A piece on a chess board that could just get replaced with another pawn.

As soon as Pidge got him back, she would prove him wrong.

They could always get a new paladin for Red, that was true. But they could never get another _Keith._

Pidge realized after a moment that she was almost outright staring at Shiro with her mouth slightly agape. She colored, drawing her hands away from her laptop keys and rubbed at her nose anxiously. She met Shiro’s charcoal eyes, reading something in them that went far deeper beyond the pain of losing a teammate.

“Are you okay?” She whispered the first thing that came to mind. Shiro’s shrug was stuff, his prosthetic creaking with the motion. He had his hands curled into tight fists at his sides.

“I will be once we get Keith back,” he replied. Shiro sounded weak and tired. Like an old man who wanted to rest his weary head, but there was no rest for them. Not with the task they had laid out in front of them.

“How…” Pidge swallowed the lump in her throat. “How did the transmission go?”

Shiro visibly cringed. “We got it through. I-I think that’s the only thing that matters. Now, we need to figure out what we’re going to do. Some sort of...game plan. A way to get Keith home.”

Pidge nodded in agreement. She glanced down at her laptop, putting her hand on the lid and closing it. “I’ll get Lance and Hunk…”

Shiro nodded, looking off down the hallway. He gazed without really seeing, his shoulders slumped in a way Pidge had never seen before. Shiro was normally so composed. She’d only ever catch him tired in this way when his nightmares got too much. In those days she had hardly slept herself, too caught up in her own mission to find her family. Somehow, though, this exhaustion seemed…worse somehow.

They had to get Keith back. Not just for the sake of the universe, but for themselves too.

 

“Hunk, _hermano,_ breathe.”

Lance’s lips were twitched into a smile as he watched his best friend pivot around the kitchen in large desperate movements. He held a new batch of strange cookies - ones that Lance remembered Keith liking quite a bit - fresh from the oven. Another tray was on the way into the oven a moment, scraping against the metal inside with a familiar twang.

“Hunk,” Lance tried again. “You’re going to go through all of our flour. And besides…” Ocean eyes skimmed over the trays lying on the table. Each one was filled with a different assortment of treats. All of which Keith liked. “I don’t think Keith will be able to eat all of this when we get him back.”

“ _I_ _f,”_ The stress in Hunk’s voice was almost painful to listen to. Lance’s hand twitched at the word. “ _If_ we get him back.”

“You can’t think like that,” Lance said, trying not to sound anxious himself. “We’ll get him back, we just gotta-”

“Gotta what?” Hunk demanded, checking on the cookies he had just put in the oven. They were still doughy and without much texture, as Lance had expected them to be. “Got to take him back from the universe’s biggest bad guys? Yeah, sure Lance, _solid_ plan there.” Lance knew Hunk was lashing out as a result of stress, but the words were doing nothing for Lance’s own anxiety.

He’d tried to take a shower to ease away the tension and at least try to wash away some of the guilt. If anything, being alone with his thoughts only amplified that. He knew he should have stayed with Keith, should have  _hesitated_ a little more and urged Keith to come with them.

But his older brother instincts had outweighed that. Pidge was small and all though Lance knew she could handle herself, she tended not to watch her backside while fighting. He was scared that if he didn’t go with her, something awful would happen and she’d land herself a first-class trip into the cryo-pod. He was sure Keith could hold out for a little while without them.

He was so, _so_ wrong.

“I’m sorry,” Hunk sighed, now stirring a bowl with far too much force. Purple batter splattered the usually pristine counters and Hunk’s apron that Lance had written ‘kiss the cook’ on with a Sharpie. “That was uncalled for, I-”

“It’s fine,” Lance said. “Really. I get it.” His hands curled into fists. Hunk dropped the bowl on the counter with a clunk, the whisk falling against the side. Hunk leaned across the table and took both of Lance’s hands in his own.

“You know it’s not your fault, right?” Hunk whispered. “What happened back there…” He inclined his head to the right as he spoke. Even without the motion, Lance knew that Hunk was talking about the prison. His grip tightened around Hunk’s hands. His best friend could, and always would be able to read him like a book.

“I thought he’d be okay,” Lance whispered. “I thought he’d get out. I…”

Hunk’s crossed the length of the room before Lance’s shoulders had even started shaking. He squashed Lance’s face into his chest, large arms wrapping around Lance’s frame in a tight hug. It was both comforting and disgusting, as purple batter was now all but smeared into Lance’s eyes.

“I know,” Hunk whispered. “I _know._ But we’ll be okay, _hermano._ No matter what happens.” Lance didn’t answer, grabbing fistfuls of Hunk’s filthy apron. He felt so  _fucking guilty._ What happened at the prison was  _his fault._ He should have been more aware, realized that there were too many sentries for Keith to take on himself.

But he  _didn’t._

“We’ll get him back, right?” Lance’s voice was a hoarse whisper. He poured a desperate hope into them, trying to make any sort of light out of their  _god-awful_ situation.

But Hunk did not reply.

 

The Paladins all gathered in the bridge thirty minutes later. Batter was still smeared across Hunk’s cheek, Lance’s hair still damp, and Pidge looked irritated and ashamed all at once. Allura observed her Paladins with these expressions, trying to ignore Shiro who looked so  _defeated_ in the corner.

Coran stood with his back pressed against the console. His lips were pursed, mustache in a state of grand disarray. He looked tired and stressed, more so than Allura had ever seen him. She knew Keith wasn’t Coran’s favorite of the Paladins (that title would have to fall to Lance) but he was still very much important to the advisor. The loss - and the horrifying images displayed in Lotor’s transmission - were likely playing over and over in Coran’s head.

“Lotor has received our message,” Allura began to speak. She was all business immediately, ready to relay the plan she, Coran, and Shiro had come up with after they had finished recording. “As far as he is aware, we are fully intending to give up Voltron for Keith.”

“And as far as the rest of us know, so are we,” Lance quipped, but it didn’t hold the same teasing tone Allura was used to. His normally slouched posture was firm and straight, lips set into a hard line. Lance was taking this very, _very_ seriously.

“Shiro, Coran, and I discussed a rescue plan in great detail after the transmission,” Allura pursed her lips. “We have come to the agreement that an infiltration mission will be in order.”

Shiro flinched at the words. Allura glanced over at him in the corner. She knew Shiro’s stance on the plan. It would take more time than expected, leaving Keith in the Galra’s hands for _far_ too long but it was the only one where any sort of safe end for their Red Paladin was met.

“An infiltration mission?” Pidge repeated. Her eyebrow was raised in a silent prompt to go on. Allura tore her gaze from Shiro to the three remaining Paladins assembled in front of her.

“Yes,” she agreed. “Shiro and Lance will infiltrate the ship while we meet for the exchange.” Her jeweled gaze flickered over to the Blue Paladin as she spoke. While Lance was not her first, nor her second choice for the job, he hadn’t puffed up his chest importantly as she spoke. He only nodded with grim determination in his ocean eyes.

“Got it,” he said, almost too quietly to be heard.  

“Lance,” she spoke, her voice stern. “You were chosen for your incredible eye. Shiro and Coran both agree that you can see what others cannot. But you _must_ remain vigilant. Do not mess this up.”

Something flashed in Lance’s eyes. Something that looked suspiciously like _pain_ , but he only nodded without elaborating. “I won’t.”

“Pidge, Hunk, and I will bide our time,” Allura said, putting Lance’s expression out of mind for now. She’d have to speak to him later. An apology was in order - she hadn’t meant to be cold. “Keep Lotor and Haggar busy by whatever means possible. Combat is a _last_ resort. Engage only if _absolutely_ necessary.”

“There was a Galra,” Hunk pointed out. “Am...Am I the only one who didn’t forget that guy? He was like...seven feet tall and had arms twice the size of...I-I dunno. A Balmeran? Whatever, we gotta deal with him too, right?”

“If Lance and I come across him,” Shiro’s voice rang across the room. It was cold and hardened, so unlike their usual Black Paladin that they actually took a few steps back. “We’ll deal with him. However we need to.” Allura didn’t have to read minds to know Shiro was thinking of Lotor’s message for them. A bruised Keith appeared in her mind’s eye again and a chill chased its way up her spine.

“That’s...not exactly a solid plan, Shiro,” Lance said anxiously. Shiro’s dark eyes flitted to Lance, tightening his arms across his chest.

“I don’t care,” he said. “Keith is what matters in our mission. If we encounter anything, we’ll deal with it however we need to. _Including_ that Galran.” Something truly venomous was in his voice then, something that Allura couldn’t even begin to fathom. Shiro was in pain, a mourning older brother who was growing desperate.

“This will be a difficult mission,” Allura warned the group. Her hands curled into fists, nails biting into her flesh. “I will not exaggerate the cruciality of it. Retrieving Keith is the top priority.”

“When do we get started?” Lance asked. Allura winced. This was the question she had been dreading. The inevitable _time of attack._ The problem was...there wasn’t one.

“We don’t know,” Allura admitted. There was a chorus of shocked noises and protests from the other Paladins. She held up her hand to silence them and they did, albeit looking furious in their own respective ways. “Our plan cannot roll into effect until we get a return message from Lotor. All we can do until then...is wait.”

“No,” Hunk looked visibly agitated. “No, this is _not_ happening. Are we supposed to leave him there?! For who knows how long?!”

“Yes,” Allura admitted. Shiro tensed in the corner and Lance cursed in that language he sometimes slipped into, unknowingly or otherwise. “We have no idea where Lotor’s ship is, and our Galra surveillance isn’t accurate enough to pinpoint his location accurately. So...until a meeting is set at a time and place, I’m afraid we must wait.”

“No way!” Lance all but exploded. “That’s _bullshit!_ You can’t be with this, Shiro!” In his corner, Shiro hunched his shoulders and turned his face away from the Blue Paladin. Lance’s eyes widened ever so slightly and he practically gawked at their leader.

“I’m sorry,” Allura said, and she meant it. She understood their pain, the wish of wanting their family to be whole again. She knew it well, having felt it just after learning of her father’s death, and even now with Keith gone. “But it is the only way.”

“ _Mierda!”_ Lance slammed his fist into the wall. Allura had no idea what he had said, but by the way Hunk winced, it clearly wasn’t a pretty word. Allura squared her shoulders, trying to remain some sort of picture of regality.

“Prepare yourselves, Paladins. This is one mission that we cannot afford to fail.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can pry Hunk learning Spanish to communicate with Lance in the beginning days of their friendship from my cold dead hands. 
> 
> This was more of a team-oriented chapter this time. Focusing less on the torture and the angst and on the team and their upcoming plan. It's more of to give you all a break before the influx of angst that's going to follow. Keith is not in for a good time. 
> 
> I honestly felt bad while writing the Pidge/Lance sections! Both of them feel responsible for what happened (that'll be an interesting conversation) and because of that are trying to take the blame solely on their shoulders. When (if) they get Keith back, they're going to have a LOT to talk about. Shiro was fun to write from an outsider's perspective, as his sudden spells of quiet where he just thinks and zones out can look pretty scary to an outsider-looking-in, especially in the wake of what happened. He looks a lot less composed than usual.
> 
> Allura is kind of hard for me to write? I hope the ending wasn't rushed because I literally have zero clue how to write her personality. Oops. 
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed! Thank you so much for reading. Drop a comment/kudos if you did, feedback means the world to me! 
> 
> You can find my Tumblr [here](https://chocolatechip-master.tumblr.com/) so if there's a certain one-shot/topic that you want me to write, just throw an ask into my inbox! :D


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's no longer about the information anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't beta-read, so all mistakes are on me. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Haggar let out a quiet sneer.

Keith had held out far longer than anyone else had in Room 105. He’d hardly moved after cushioning himself into a corner, shoulders tense and keeping himself in one uncomfortable position after another. Haggar’s claws drew lines into the console, the Galra next to her sending her a concerned look.

The Red Paladin had much more spirit than she could have ever bargained for. She’d gotten a taste of it in his mind; a fiery passion that went so much further beyond just the regular bite of a Red Paladin. He radiated protectiveness, something that would not be so easily broken. Haggar had underestimated him.

She leaned down to face the Galra sitting next to her. He looked alarmed for a moment, reeling back at her sudden close proximity.

“Summon Laynek,” she hissed. “Tell him to retrieve the Red Paladin.”

“Retrieve the paladin?” The Galra repeated. “But High Priestess he hasn’t yet shown signs of-”

“He will not fall so easily,” Haggar sneered. “It seems we’ll have to break him before we get to what he knows.” Her lips twisted into a broad smirk as the Galra did as she had asked without asking anything more. She’d have to turn to less-than-conventional methods to get what she wanted, and she was _more_ than happy to inflict them on the Red Paladin.

 

Keith shifted into a more comfortable position for the third time this hour. His arms were now splayed across the padded floor, fingers curled inwards and resting against his palms. His right ear was lying against the ground, the headphones now practically pressing his skull in half. His mental clock told him it’d been about a day and a half since he’d been thrown into the room.

He felt like he was going insane. It was pure stubbornness that was keeping him together. The urge to hold onto the last shreds of dignity he still had. His throat felt raw and swallowing was starting to feel like the worst agony by far. Copper still lingered in his mouth; a poor substitute for the water he so desperately craved.

Keith wondered for a brief moment when he was going to be summoned again. He had his strength back (one of the few perks of lying on the ground for hours at a time) and had been preparing himself for another mind-probing session in between pounding headaches from the headphones. He was going to be ready again, with an influx of meaningless memories to throw Haggar off.

She would get nothing from him. _Nothing._

A boot heel stepped hard onto Keith’s fingers. He let out a loud gasp of pain that was far too different in his ears than the constant drumming of his blood against his skull. Claws wormed into his hair and pulled upwards, the headphones being pulled off in one quick stroke.

The influx of noise made Keith whimper. There was heavy breathing above him and his fingers were popping loudly with each subtle twitch he made. The heel still hadn’t moved off of his fingers and there was a terrible twisting sensation that informed Keith that he didn’t have long before one of his fingers snapped in two.

The Galra (Keith was sure it had to be one. No one else on this god-forsaken ship had such _loud_ breathing) mercifully removed his boot from Keith’s twitching fingers. The hand still buried in his hair, fingers scraping his scalp, tugged upwards. Keith stumbled to his feet, all the blood rushing from his head making him stumble.

“Get moving,” The Galra snarled. Keith’s heart skipped a beat. It was Laynek. He turned his head, trying to focus on the direction he thought Laynek was in when a horrifying thought occurred to him.

_They weren’t taking off the blindfold._

Keith fought hard not to panic. He was going to remain blind for who knew how much longer, and even worse, he couldn’t attack Laynek like he had planned. Every single thought of escape had been blown out the metaphorical window, and now Keith had to continue to suffer at the hands of the Galra.

_Fuck._

“Move,” Laynek shoved Keith. He stumbled forwards, the thump of Laynek’s footsteps following after him far too loud.

“Why aren’t you taking off my blindfold?” Keith demanded, repressing a shudder as Laynek’s hand pressed onto the small of his back, guiding him forcefully to where his mental map put him at the door. Laynek ignored him, instead favoring to seize Keith by his manacles and walk him out of the room.

The cold tile was a stark contrast to the warm padding Keith had been lying on for the past day. A shudder ran up his spine as he hunched forward, trying to keep up with Laynek’s long strides. He stumbled down the stairs, wincing at every noise. There was too much sensory to be comfortable, and Keith was sure it would have been even _worse_ if they took a blindfold off. Even if he hated the fact that he wouldn’t be able to see what was coming next, the Galra had one him a small favor.

Laynek pulled Keith into a what felt like a room. He tripped over an examination table, deducing that this must have been the same room as before, and was practically rolled back onto it. The restraints from last time were placed and Keith wiggled fruitlessly, trying to get the blindfold off. He only succeeded in jarring his already aching head into another headache.

Keith braced himself, knowing that Haggar must be in the room too. Her steps, contrary to most Galra, were silent and sure. Fluid in a way that no creature, human or alien, should have been able to be.

Laynek slapped something onto Keith’s arm and he let out a quiet gasp. Something that oddly resembled tape was now stuck to his skin, a cold metal piece in the center. Laynek proceeded to tape down his arms and legs and Keith had time to wonder what was going on before Laynek was leaning in close to his ear.

“We’re going to play a game, Red One,” he hissed. Dread pooled into Keith’s stomach. Whatever game this was, Keith was sure he did not want to play it. “I’m going to ask you a few questions. Answer them as honest as possible. Otherwise...there will be consequences.”

Keith furrowed his brow into a blinded glare. He drew his lips into a fine line, understanding the object of this ‘game’ immediately. The questions clearly were going to have something to do with the secrets of Voltron that only Keith was privy to. The consequence was going to hurt, and Keith took a deep breath to prepare himself or it.

 _They’ll get nothing,_ Keith thought fiercely. _I’m not going to betray them. I’ll protect them._

The thought filled Keith with strength. It was what he did best, after all. He protected and made up for where others fell short. He’d protected the team, led for them when Shiro wasn’t able to. He’d been awful at it, but he’d done what he could. This was no different. Keith would do what he could and that would have to be enough.

Laynek was fiddling with something that filled the room with a clicking noise that made Keith’s ears ache. “First question...what is the Castle of Lion’s greatest weakness?”

Keith bared his teeth, responding with the first thought that came to mind. “The fact that I’m not on it.” It was cocky, gave out no information, and probably pissed the Galran off.

_Perfect._

Laynek didn’t respond like Keith expected him to. Instead, he turned what sounded like a dial, a strange chirping noise echoing loudly through the room. The metal on Keith’s arms began to buzz, humming with some sort of power and then-

A bolt of electricity shot through Keith. Unprepared for the unbridled _pain_ that shot through him, Keith threw his head back and _screamed._ Lightning raced up his spine, grabbing his organs and seizing them in a death grip. His hands curled and uncurled, twitching violently with the rest of him as his bloodstream turned white hot against his skin. Something felt like it was about to be _ruptured_ until Laynek abruptly turned the current off.

Keith let out a pitiful pant, an uncontrollable tick already starting in his right eye. He cast his gaze around desperately, hating the scratchy fabric that pressed against his face. This was so, _so_ much worse than what he had tried to prepare himself for.

“Tell me the inner-workings of Voltron,” Laynek moved on. “What is each Paladin’s greatest fears?”

 _Failing to protect those they care for the most,_ Keith thought without really meaning to. He bit back that answer and instead tried another, just as off-putting as the last.

“The fact that you might actually be a challenge,” he quipped. This time Laynek snorted in rage and Keith prepared himself for the incoming electricity.

It was worse this time. Keith bashed his head back against the table, another raw scream tearing through his throat. He spasmed on the table, the electricity tore a knife through him, causing him to tremble violently where he lay immobile on the table.

The electricity lasted longer this time, tugging and pulling at Keith. It turned everything to ash, starting with his organs and moving to his nerves. His bloodstream turned to fire, raging and bubbling underneath his skin.

Finally, Laynek turned off the electricity.

The tick had spread to his finger, that twitched horribly every few minutes. He shivered violently, the lingering effects of the pain fading from his mind.

“Voltron’s greatest weakness,” Laynek pressed again. “Tell me it!” He didn’t give Keith the time to respond with something witty this time. Before he had even opened his mouth, Laynek had turned the dial once more. Keith’s scream was louder, more prolonged and increased in intensity the longer the electricity coursed through him.

Laynek turned off the dial, and Keith sucked in a deep gasp of air. He turned his head in the direction he thought Laynek was and glared at him as intensely as he could.

“F-Fuck you,” Keith spat. The Galran made a huff above him through his nose, clearly not understanding the connotation of the words but understanding it was an insult. “You’re not...going to get _anything_ from me. No matter what you do, I’m not going to sell out my team!”

In response, Laynek sank something into Keith’s stomach. His breathing was heavy - right next to Keith’s ear - but he chose to focus instead on the foreign object that was now twisting horribly into his gut. The pain that _should_ have been there was not registering due to the numbness of his body, but he could feel Laynek’s fist, resting against his stomach with the nails scraping the skin. His fingers were wrapped around _something_ with a hilt-

 _Oh._ The answer came to Keith at the same time the pain did. Laynek had _stabbed_ him. He was _twisting_ the knife in lazy circles, deepening the wound as warm blood gushed out of the opening. Keith squirmed but that only made the gradually worsening pain even more prevalent.

He let out a choked cry and Laynek pulled hard. The knife flew out of his abdomen with a shower of blood, splattering Keith’s face and his blindfold. He drew out harsh gasps, the fact that there was a _hole in his stomach_ who _knew_ how big causing him to panic.

And holy _hell_ did it hurt.

“You’ve forced my hand, Red One…” Laynek paused. His name, then, a moment later. Spoken with such _fire_ and _hatred_ that Keith almost recoiled. “ _Keith._ I promised you I would break you. I intend to do so in...whatever manner I deem fit. This is no longer about the information.”

Keith tried not to feel the dread twisting in what remained of his stomach at the words. “Wh-What?”

“The druids have decided to...turn to experimentation,” Laynek said, a smirk in his voice. “If you will not divulge the information we need _willingly..._ then we will have to strip you bare first. Destroy the Red Paladin of all he used to be. Until he no longer burns with the protection to save his team. Then...then we will get what we want.”

Blood bubbled from the hole in Keith’s stomach. He felt like throwing up, the information hard to process in his rapidly fading consciousness. Room 105 felt like nothing compared to knowing that he was no longer a bargaining chip, no longer a source of information. He was nothing but a toy - a plaything - for Haggar and Laynek.

Was this was Lotor had planned? Was this what he had intended from the beginning? He would get the Lions of Voltron and in return the team would get...what? A husk? A Paladin whose spirit that once burned as bright as the sun now reduced to a mere shell of his former self? Keith hadn’t given him enough credit. Lotor was really more cunning (and more sadistic) than Keith had thought.

Keith let out a choked cry. The last of the numbing from the electrocution was wearing off. The wound in his stomach felt like it had torn a hole in his entire body. His mind grew fuzzy and he tried to shake it off. Fear of what would happen if he passed out outweighed the fear of staying awake. He tried to ignore the blood staining the table and his skin and splayed his fingers firmly on the cold metal surface of the table.

The pain was tearing holes in his consciousness. Ripping it into pieces and forcing Keith to grip at reality to stay awake. He whimpered pathetically, squeezing his eyes shut. The uncomfortable material of the blindfold scratched against Keith’s eyes.

A presence nearby his head had him tensing and he let out an involuntary gasp. The motion made the pain increase ten-fold and Keith’s head swam. Laynek chuckled next to his ear, watching in what Keith guessed was amusement as he squirmed on the table. Smearing blood from his wound everywhere and staining the table and his prison rags.

“What a shame for you and your team, Red Paladin,” he whispered. “The druids _do_ so love to _experiment.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaa! I'm sorry about the late update! I meant to publish this earlier today, but time slipped away from me! It's here (and really short, I'm sorry) and we're finally getting to where I want this! 
> 
> Keep in mind, this isn't going to be the average 'teammate goes missing and then the team finds a way to rescue them' rather, it's going to take a different turn in the long-run. If they do reunite again, both parties are going to be changed and very exhausted from the long search. 
> 
> Think of it as Clone Shiro's escape, hm? 
> 
> This was more of a torture/sadness oriented chapter this time. Prepare for a lot of this. Some of you gave me absolutely incredible ideas for where to go next, and I fully intend to use them. Just...not until later. :p
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Leave a comment/kudos if you did, I absolutely adore feedback!!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lotor understands what Zarkon did not. He knows exactly how to break Keith. How to make the infamous Red Paladin question his own self-worth. 
> 
> And he's not afraid to put that knowledge to the test.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't beta-read, so all mistakes are on me. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Keith hated extreme temperatures.

Back on Earth, he hated the cold the desert brought at night. No blankets Keith had, no fires he built in his fireplace, made him any warmer. The day was just as bad, as Keith spent most of his time wandering, searching for that inexplicable _energy_ in sweltering heat. So, when the table he was bound to started getting _colder_ and then _hotter,_ he winced and tried to adjust himself on it. Especially from the phantom pain from his stab wound. While Haggar had come in to heal it with her magic a little while ago, it still burned like hell and felt like the injury hadn't been healed entirely.

Keith shifted again.

It didn’t work, and while it was better than being blinded and deafened for _lord_ knew how long, it was still ungodly amounts of uncomfortable. At least it gave Keith time to think. Time to rethink his escape plan and find a way _out._

All though, for longer than he’d like to admit, Keith found himself thinking of Laynek’s promise.

_“The druids do so love to experiment.”_

Keith knew first-hand what the druids were capable of. He’d seen what they had done to Shiro. To Voltron, during their final battle with Zarkon. Keith _knew._ But he’d hoped he never would be on the receiving end of that curiosity. However, it appeared he no longer had a choice. He was going to be used as some lab rat because it was no longer about the information anymore.

_It was no longer about the information anymore._

Keith let out a pained gasp, his head almost smashing into the table. It had turned white-hot without warning, blistering the underside of Keith’s arms. He struggled, bucking against the restraints that held him. They held fast, firmly keeping him held against the table. Tears in his eyes, he let out a choked scream, heat searing against his skin.

Images swam in his eyes. The shack in the middle of the desert. His middle school, his foster families, _Shiro._ He thought of Allura, Coran, Lance, Hunk, and Pidge too. The people that had taught him that it was okay to trust again, that he didn’t need to close himself off to the world to protect himself anymore.

The heat increased.

Keith cried out, breath cutting short. His skin bubbled with the heat. Blisters forming on his back, popping, and then forming again in an endless, painful cycle of pain that would never, _ever_ end.

Then, just as quickly as it had turned hot, the table went cold.

A shiver ran down Keith’s spine and he nearly choked on a sob as it touched his back. It was a different kind of burn this time. One that was pleasant at first against his overheated skin. Then, it started becoming far too cold. A chill that left frost on the popped blisters on Keith’s back. Keith shivered involuntarily, trying to remember the warmth from before. It had been nice, compared to this soul-searing agony of the cold.

He let out another cry of pain. He tried to focus on anything - _anything_ \- other than the cold that was tearing him apart from the inside. Everything was freezing, Keith was so cold he was sure he wouldn’t be able to stand it-

The table began to warm again. Keith sobbed, half in relief, half in pain because he _knew_ what was coming next. And true to form, the cycle repeated, blood from the cracked and burned skin on his back seeping onto the previously clean table. Keith wished he could see. He wished he could see the damage being done. And yet, he was sure if he did, if he scratched the blindfold off with his fingernails as he had tried to do, the images would stay with him for the rest of his life.

The cold came again. And again. The finale to the heat, which was a nothing but a prelude of agony. Keith no longer had time to think of an escape plan when his whole body was _shivering_ with pain that he couldn’t escape.

Keith had spent much of his life running, and now he was finally paying the price.

The table stopped humming. It now rested between room-temperature and _too cold_ on Keith’s aching back. He wanted to shift, get the pressure off of his extensive wounds. The back of his prison pants was singed; he could tell from the awful scent of singed fabric that mingled with an awful sour smell that Keith recognized as burnt flesh.

The door hissed open.

Keith tensed, agony still ripping through him at every move. He turned his head, narrowing his eyes at what he hoped was the door.

Fingers dug into the blindfold around his eyes. They ripped it away in one clean motion, the knot that Keith had been so desperate to undo falling away.

Keith blinked once. Twice.

Purple skin and magnificent white hair greeted him. Keith squinted through the purple lights that were suddenly _far_ too bright and glared as best he could. Lotor - or the blurry figure that _was_ Lotor - seemed to smile at him, amused by the spirit Keith still held. He reached toward Keith, his fingers carding through the messy hair that had been burned away partially in the back. Keith tried to snap at his hand with his teeth.

“Don’t touch me,” he snarled, voice hoarse and raspy from all the screaming he had done. “Get your _hands off of me.”_ Lotor merely smiled. He trailed his hand down Keith’s arm, pinched the skin between two of his fingers, and _twisted._

Keith let out a gasp of pain as Lotor continued pulling. The skin broke and pulled away, a horrible bloody hole where pink flesh had once been. Lotor looked slightly amused at the horror that stole across Keith’s face.

He choked.

“Your fire burns bright,” Lotor noted. “Not uncommon for one chosen by the Red Lion of Voltron. I suspect Laynek told you of our new...arrangements for you?”

“Go to hell,” Keith spat back. He tried to muster up some sort of glare, but it turned into a pained whimper as he moved wrong. The burns on his back pulled and twisted, the small, yet _horrifying,_ hole in his skin leaking far too much blood. Lotor gripped Keith’s arm. His fingers trailed downwards, to Keith’s bound wrists. They twinged at even the softest impact of Lotor’s hands against his own.

“While my father - may he recover well - would have kept pressuring Haggar to use whatever methods obtainable to give us information, I am more...patient.” Lotor said, moving to stand in Keith’s direct line of sight, mercifully releasing his hold on Keith’s wrists as he did so. “I understand better than he that there is no better way to gain information...then by _breaking_ those that you want it from.”

Lotor crossed the room. Keith watched, apprehension pooling in his gut, as he examined Haggar’s vials. The silence that stretched between them was long, tension thick in the air. Keith wet his lips, trying to hold back a gasp as he moved wrong on the table. The burns dragged against the lukewarm table.

Lotor’s lips twitched upward at the sound. “Do you consider yourself strong, Paladin?”

Keith turned a heated glare - all though a subdued one - onto Lotor. “What?”

“Do you consider yourself strong?”

Keith blanched. It was a question he had never thought of himself. While physically, he was nearly on-par with Shiro, but that was clearly not the answer Lotor wanted. Keith had survived more in his eighteen years of life that most could say they’d been through in a lifetime. He’d been through every foster family, lost everything, gained everything, and was thrown into a war that was not his doing.

Keith was passionate in a way nobody else was. He _knew_ that. He was Voltron’s double-edged sword. A protective ward over the others that would not hesitate to turn around and avenge those that had done his teammates - his _family_ \- harm.

The answer Lotor was seeking was _yes._ But Keith was not going to give it to him.

“I’ve heard tales of your...fighting prowess,” Lotor said. He picked up a green vial that looked horribly like poison and twirled it in his grip. To Keith’s immense relief he put it back on the shelf, his fingers grazing the label. “I’ve heard your fighting style mimics that of a Galran, all though you are only _half._ I’d like to see the validity of your claim first hand.”

“What do you mean?” Keith practically spat. Lotor turned to face him, a cruel smile high upon his unblemished face. A shiver ran down Keith’s spine.

“I would like a duel,” Lotor said, with the air of someone discussing the weather. “A...test of strengths, if you will. I spent years training in exile, honing my skills and waiting to return back to the Empire to reclaim my birthright. I’m sure you will find me an adequate opponent.”

Keith bared his teeth. The challenge was unfair and Lotor knew it. Keith was injured, could hardly move due to the ruined skin of his back, and his left arm was out of commission.

But _damn_ did Keith want to punch the prince’s stupid face in.

“What happens if I accept and beat you?” Keith challenged. Lotor’s yellow eyes narrowed in thought. He tapped his chin, a cruel smirk spreading across his face.

“Your freedom,” he said with an idle shrug. “If you beat me, I will supply you with a pod with enough supplies to allow you to return to your teammates safely. Should I win, however, you will remain here and I will allow Haggar and Laynek to continue what they have been." He paused for a moment, observing Keith almost with an animalistic interest. "Do we have a deal?”

Keith _knew_ he should say no. There was no real guarantee of his freedom. For all he knew, Lotor would go back on his word and Keith would be stuck in this same situation all over again. Lotor was cunning in a way that all of Keith’s previous enemies weren’t, and he was not to be trusted because of it. Keith had to rely on himself here. He couldn’t take the generosity of the Prince for granted, especially when Lotor had Keith practically wrapped around his finger.

He could handle a bit more torture. A little while longer until he found the picture-perfect opportunity to escape. He’d be _fine_ and he was _not_ going to fall for Lotor’s lies.

 _No,_ Keith thought angrily. _I am_ not _playing your stupid game._

So when Keith squared his jaw and met Lotor’s gaze evenly, he felt like punching himself in the gut at the words that fell out of his lips.

“You’re on.”

 

Keith was allowed to walk for the first time since he was captured.

Lotor was generous enough to unclasp the chains on his ankles, keeping the manacles securely in place. He followed Lotor through the hallways. There was no point in trying to run from Lotor, especially when he had no idea the layout of the ship. To make matters worse, he was injured beyond what he had ever been before. Every step pulled the burns on his back and they were getting harder and harder to ignore.

Lotor led Keith through the obnoxiously purple hallways, pausing only once outside a door. The scanner on the side read his handprint and slid open. Lotor strode inside with Keith on his heels, glancing painfully around him.

The room he was in was large, with purple polished tiles and dull, featureless walls. There was a stand of weapons, ranging from a ball-and-chain to a large clunky iron sword that would likely break if it was swung too hard.

Lotor strode casually to the weapons and hummed through them, running his fingers across the hilts. He picked out two weapons. The iron sword and-

Keith’s heart skipped a beat.

His _bayard._  

Lotor smirked, eyes gleaming at the shock written all over Keith’s face. They had his _bayard._ While it wasn’t surprising, as Keith had it out when he was captured, he thought that the bayard had been safely nestled with his armor - god knew where that was - away from Galra hands.

Apparently not.

“Ah yes, this,” Lotor examined the bayard, holding it by its handle. “A souvenir the Warden of the Galra prison you tried to raid gave us. The druids had much fun picking apart the Altean armor. Pity they destroyed it.” Keith’s stomach bottomed out. The druids of that prison ship had pulled apart his armor, learning all the secrets of the Altean technology that put it together, and had given the Galra the most important weapon a Paladin of Voltron could have. Keith cursed himself out silently. He should have been more _careful._

Lotor tossed the bayard through the air, the links between the cuffs binding Keith’s wrists vanishing. Keith moved his newly-freed right arm to catch it and he did with a quiet grunt of pain. The weapon felt natural to hold. It felt _right._ The bayard glowed, the broadsword extending from the handle and Keith automatically adjusted his stance the added weight of the blade.

“I understand that you’re injured,” Lotor glanced at the wound still leaking blood on Keith’s arm. “I hope that will not hinder our duel.”

“You wish,” retorted Keith. He had been born ambidextrous, and as long as he kept movement to a minimum, fought defensively instead of offensively he would be fine.

Lotor smiled, moving to stand in the center of the room. Keith stood in front of him, a good five feet of space now between them. The Galran Prince observed Keith for a moment, silent and contemplating. Then, he rose the heavy iron sword in his hand, preparing a practiced battle stance. Keith tensed.

“Shall we begin?”

Keith only nodded.

He hardly had time to breathe, then, as Lotor was upon him in a flurry of slashes and blows. It was all Keith could do to block, the skin on his back cracking and pulling in a way that sent agony flaring through Keith’s consciousness. He took a step back, trying to think about Lotor’s smooth movements rather than the pain.

This was a really, _really_ dumb idea.

Lotor’s sword came up from a swipe under Keith. He parried, the shock gripping his arms and sending shockwaves through his burned back. He gritted his teeth, ignoring it and pushed back against Lotor. A look of surprise flickered over Lotor’s face and Keith smirked. He shoved Lotor’s own blade against him, forcing the prince to take several steps backward.

Keith gave him no time to rest. Ignoring the hot sting in his back, he leapt upon Lotor, slicing with his right arm and keeping his left firmly tucked against his side, to avoid further injury. Lotor blocked and struck back periodically, almost looking bored although Keith was clearly winning. He pushed Lotor closer and closer to the wall, ducking painfully under a wide swipe that would have undoubtedly hurt like _hell_ if the blow connected.

The move sent Keith back a bit, stumbling from the wound on his back. He squeezed his eyes shut, a hiss escaping his lips. Lotor took that as his opportunity to land the heel of his boot directly into Keith’s stomach. He stumbled away, winded, his only clear thought to _not_ fall down onto his back. He’d probably pass out on impact.

“You have spirit,” Lotor called. “It seems the rumors were not exaggerated in the least.” Keith snarled and bounded at Lotor, raising his bayard above his head to connect with Lotor’s head. Lotor brought up the iron sword to block, a loud clang echoing from the two blades colliding.

Keith swiped out with one of his legs. Lotor jumped over it nimbly, cuffing Keith’s left shoulder with his blade. Fire spread up his neck and arm from the impact, and Keith barely resisted the urge to cry out. Luckily, the blade was too dull to pierce flesh, but it still _hurt like hell._

“Your injured, and yet you take the initiative in the fight,” Lotor noted. “The Galra motive is _victory or death,_ you know. The way you fight reminds me of that mantra...how curious. A half-human half-Galra fighting the same way a culture he is not familiar with does…”

“Shut up and fight me!” Keith retorted. He fought back with renewed vigor, blows ringing throughout the room. Lotor’s lips twitched upwards at Keith’s ferocity. He was now close to the wall, where Keith fully intended to land the finishing blow and _get the fuck out of here._

He was so close. He could taste the freedom on his tongue when he shoved Lotor up against the wall, sword pressing against the prince’s throat. One of Lotor’s legs was firmly pressed to the wall, the other in between Keith’s legs, spread in a comfortable fighting stance. Lotor looked genuinely surprised as he was cornered, an expression Keith absolutely _relished in._

“I win,” he snarled, moving his blade to deliver the finishing blow. Lotor’s eyes darted to the foot in between Keith’s legs. A smirk spread across his face.

“Not _quite.”_

What happened next was a blur. Lotor moved so fast Keith could hardly keep up, his legs swiping out Keith’s own from under him. Keith had time to think _oh shit_ before he hit the ground, his back landing first.

Agony exploded all down Keith’s spine from the contact. He screamed.

The burns, whose pain had become tolerable during the fight, was now all-encompassing. It was everywhere, sending ghostly fire all down Keith’s body. Lotor stood above him, blurry from the wash of tears that were now in Keith’s eyes. He writhed, trying to make his body work to roll over _off_ of the wounds, when he realized his legs and arms were now bound shut, wrists pressed against each other.

“I win,” Lotor said and Keith sobbed. “Perhaps...you are not as strong as you believe yourself to be, Paladin.” He paused, placing his sword on the ground, leaning his arm against the hilt. “ _Keith.”_

Keith could do nothing but writhe on the ground in agony, sobbing pathetically. He tried to convince himself otherwise. Tried to say that Lotor was _wrong,_ he was _wrong,_ Keith was _strong_ and Lotor was _wrong,_ but the facts of the matter got to his head. Keith had lost, and lost horribly. He’d made _another_ dumb mistake that had cost him his only shot at freedom.

_He had lost._

_He’s wrong,_ Keith thought desperately as Lotor called for a name - perhaps Laynek’s - to take Keith to his cell. _He has to be wrong. I’m strong, I only lost because I’m hurt…_

Keith was strong. He had to be, to survive, to go through everything that he had and still be around to say he’d lived. Keith was strong. Lotor was wrong.

...wasn’t he?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aghh I'm so sorry! 
> 
> I missed last week's update because schoolwork got in the way and I had to write an essay that ate up _all_ of my writing time. But I'm back! And with a longer chapter than last time. I hope some nice Kangst helped make up for missing last week's update  <3
> 
> Anyways, things are starting to get fun! Lotor is a smart character, and would know exactly how to break someone like Keith down. Prove to him that he's not as strong as he thinks he is (even though he's very very strong) and plant a seed of doubt that will eventually cave Keith in. Hopefully Keith can hold out long enough. 
> 
> Next chapter we return to the team and their rescue plan, while Keith gets himself into deeper and deeper shit. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed, drop a comment/kudos if you did! It was a blast to write, and I've got more plans coming up here! Thank you so much for reading, it means the world to me! <3
> 
> You can find my Tumblr [here](https://chocolatechip-master.tumblr.com/) so if there's a certain one-shot/topic that you want me to write, just throw an ask into my inbox! :D


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lotor's come close. 
> 
> But not close enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't beta-read, so all mistakes are on me. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Hunk was, for the first time in a while, returning to what he did _best._

While Pidge had taken over most of the techie nonsense since they’d been launched into space, Hunk only truly shone when he had a bunch of wires and metals in hand to put together and _fix._ He had fond memories of fixing cars with his father back on Earth; the two of them spending hours on the family rust bucket that broke down every other week. Hunk _loved_ those days back when he was a kid, and he loved those days still.

Nowadays, however, he seemed to find himself wandering into the kitchen. Baking up a storm for the other paladins to taste and enjoy. _Especially_ during Shiro’s impromptu trip into the Black Lion’s consciousness for a month. He found himself falling away from his roots, letting Pidge take care of the fixing and the building while he kept everyone fed and reasonably happy.

Now, he sat with Pidge, Keith’s red jacket (Lance had once dared the Red Paladin to wear it around like a crop-top and Keith had looked so scandalized Lance couldn’t stop laughing) in hand.

Hunk’s plan - or at least it _had_ been - was to make some sort of Keith Tracker. Some way for Shiro and Lance to find their missing Paladin without searching every room individually. Now, he was just trying to figure out how to get something of Keith’s inside of the tracker.

Pidge sat next to him, equally as lost. While Hunk had been the one to come up with the plan, Pidge had the brains and the tech to put it together. The two of them together were unstoppable, at least until they hit a roadblock.

Hunk stared dumbly between the small remote they’d made and Keith’s jacket, fabric soft and well-worn to the touch. “So...how do we do this?”

“I’m not sure,” Pidge said. “We’ve passed the realm of 'possible' now, and now we’re going into near impossible. We don’t have any blood samples from Keith or even a trace of him in his room.”

“He’s surprisingly clean,” Hunk murmured without thinking. Keith’s room was near spotless. It was Hunk’s first thought when he’d entered. Bare, with nothing but his Marmoran Blade sitting on the bedside table. Keith never took that knife off his person, but the fact that he had forgotten it the day of the raid was oddly fitting. It had stayed while the rest of its owner had gone. It would be there when its owner returned from whatever horrors he had been enduring for three days.

Pidge snorted beside him. “Yeah,” she agreed. “Maybe…” She trailed off, leaning back and holding her ankles with both hands. She pursed her lips, clearly thinking hard. “Maybe quintessence has something to do with it.”

“Quintessence?”

“Yeah,” Pidge looked at Hunk, tilting her head to the left ever so slightly. “Allura said all of our quintessences are mirrored in our lions, right?”

“Where are you going with this?” Hunk frowned suspiciously, not quite following.

“Red and Keith share the same quintessence,” Pidge said. “What if there’s a way to extract Red’s quintessence and put it in this tracker?” Hunk followed Pidge’s gaze across the room to where a wall separated the Green and Red hangars. He shrugged.

“Worth a shot.”

Pidge climbed to her feet, brushing off her pants. “Let’s go ask Allura.”

The walk to the bridge was short and subdued. Hunk still held the remote in one hand, Keith’s jacket in the other. Hunk felt another pang in his heart as he looked at the familiar red fabric. Something about it being here, while its owner was off, possibly struggling to even _live,_ hurt in ways Hunk wasn’t able to describe.

Pidge was chewing on her lower lip as she approached the bridge door. Hunk hoped she wasn’t thinking of something similar. She was too young to have to deal with something like this.

_They all were._

And yet, they were still in the midst of a war that, up until that fateful night at the Garrison, they had nothing to do with.

When they entered, Allura was standing with the star map extended, scrolling through it. She smiled almost sheepishly as Hunk and Pidge approached and it vanished into nothing, the false stars blinking out of existence. She opened her mouth to ask what they needed, but Pidge beat her to the punch.

“We need your help,” she said bluntly.

Allura tried for a smile, but it looked forced.

Like _everything_ was.

Keith had been gone for three days, and there still had been no response from Lotor, and tensions between the team were running higher than ever.

“What do you need?” Allura asked kindly. 

Pidge gestured to the remote in Hunk’s hand. “We need you to transfer the quintessence of the Red Lion into our Keith Tracker.”

“You want me to _what?”_

Allura’s eyebrow had climbed into her hair. Hunk would have found that impressive if he and Pidge weren’t so serious about their request. Pidge folded her arms defiantly, jutting her chin out as if daring Allura to question her again.

“Take the quintessence from the Red Lion and put it into our Keith Tracker,” Hunk said, repeating Pidge’s earlier request. Allura bit her lip, folding her arms across her chest. She glanced at the both of them individually, wetting her lips.

Hunk knew it was monumental to ask of her. Allura was by no means an expert in quintessence, but she was the only one on the team with enough knowledge of the subject to manipulate it for short periods of time. If anyone had the answer to their question, if anyone could even _do_ it, Allura could.

“I’m...not sure,” she said finally. “That is a complicated question and I’m not sure I have enough knowledge of quintessence manipulation to do it properly…”

Pidge visibly deflated, her shoulders sagging. “Oh.” Allura noticed the way the both of them looked just the slightest bit more disappointed and bit her lip gently. She took a step closer and offered them both an unsure smile.

“But,” she said. “As your Earth saying goes, there is no harm in the word trying.”

She could tell by the brief amused look that spread across Hunk’s face that she had gotten the phrase wrong, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care. Her Paladins had been showing something they hadn’t had in the past three days.

_Hope._

 

Keith was dreaming of his father.

More specifically, he dreamed of who his father used to _be._

In these dreams, Keith was a child again. Seven years old with his whole life ahead of him, unaware of the fate that awaited his father within the confines of a flaming home. Unaware of the pain and the abandonment that would chase Keith for the better part of his childhood. Right now, Keith was on the roof of the shack in the middle of the desert, his father’s arm around his shoulders, almost lazily. His other hand was tracing the stars, pointing out shapes and constellations.

Keith knew how this dream would pan out. Keith would ask meaningless questions about the stars, and the existence of life beyond them and his father would smile whimsically, like he knew something Keith didn’t.

Keith’s throat tightened painfully as his father turned to him with a broad smile, stubble that needed a dire shave dotting his chin. His hand danced through Keith’s bangs, fingers toying with the mullet that Keith had seemed to have been _born_ with.

 _“Chase the stars, Keith,”_ he encouraged, southern accent entwining itself into his words. _“Then, maybe you’ll find the answer to that.”_

 _“Dad?”_ Keith’s voice was higher-pitched. Tinged with the curiosity of an innocent child that had yet to be tainted by the world around him. _“Did Mom go to chase the stars too? Is that why she’s not here?”_

Keith’s father turned, eyes scouring the horizon. He searched the sky, looking for some invisible person among the pinpricks of light.

 _"Yeah,”_ he said. _“But she’ll come back. And then all of us can chase the stars together. Okay?”_

Keith traced Orion’s Belt with his finger. _“Okay.”_

It was nights like those that had truly stemmed Keith’s love for space. The times where he spent hours in the public library poring over book after book about anything related to something beyond their atmosphere had only strengthened that. It had taken almost every molecule in his body to contain the excitement that _pounded_ in his chest when _the_ Takashi Shirogane wandered into _his_ class and was willing to give him a second chance after he stole his car and drove it without even his permit or license. 

Keith supposed he had chased the stars like his father had wanted. Granted, it wasn’t as a family like he had wanted as Keith still had _no_ idea where his mother was, but he was there. There was still so much to explore, so much to see and when things felt hopeless, Keith’s father would visit him in his dreams, give Keith that crooked grin he used to hate and tell him that everything was _going to be okay._

But was it though?

Keith had lost. He had lost a pivotal fight that had almost gained him his freedom. He could have escaped from the clutches of the Galra, from the senseless torture that he’d been trapped in for the past few...days? Months? Years?

Time, like everything in space, was hard. He could have been in the Galra's hands for the past decade and he'd be none the wiser.

Keith could have been free by now. Curled in a Galran ship and on his way back to the Castle to hop into a cryopod and forget this ever happened. But of course, _nothing_ ever had to go his way. Like his mother leaving him as a baby, his father’s death, and the foster care system, something _always had to go wrong._

That only made returning to consciousness all that much harder.

The first thing he was aware of was the fingers, probing and pulling at his dream and tearing it into pieces. Without thinking, he threw up a messy mental wall of in the form of the taste of pineapples, trying to throw the fingers off. A dry cackle echoed above him, soft and scratchy in a way no human - or Galran - should have ever been.

“Did you not appreciate that?” Haggar cooed in his ear. Her fingers were on either side of his head and he could feel the burns on his back pressing against a cold metal table.

Keith opened his eyes fully. Everything hurt, and the rush of incoming memories didn’t help. He remembered getting captured, Room 105, the duel he had somehow managed to _lose._

_Weak, weak, weak._

_Shut up,_ Keith told the traitorous voice in the back of his head. It cackled darkly as the fingers began to probe at his mind again in his moment of weakness.

“Such a sweet sentiment,” Haggar purred. “To chase the stars with your family. A pity you will never be able to do so, _Keith.”_

His name rolled off of her tongue in a way that made Keith recoil. Something about it was so _wrong_ that he half wanted to tell Haggar to go to hell.

Not that he hadn’t already.

“You were so close to escaping this place,” Haggar chuckled above him. Keith's stomach wrinkled at the reminder. “But you lost. That only gives me more... _time_ to do what I wish with you.” Her fingers pulled from his temples and trailed over his right arm, her fingers causing goosebumps to rise onto his skin. He recoiled out of instinct, Haggar's yellow eyes following his every movement. She made a strange noise (it was probably supposed to sound _amused)_ and pulled away.

“Do you know how the Champion lost his arm?” She asked, circling Keith like a prey would do a predator. A sharp jolt tugged in Keith’s gut. Shiro had not told him how, but he wasn’t even sure that the Black Paladin even remembered how. Even if he did, Keith didn’t mind Shiro not telling him. What Shiro had gone through was worse than hell, and there were many things Keith was sure his brother kept secret from him even now.

Instead of giving Haggar the satisfaction of answering, Keith ignored her.

“He gave me the honor of taking it from him,” Haggar said. The implications of her words sent shivers down Keith’s spine. “How much I learned of your kind from just one part of the whole was... _phenomenal_. I wonder how much I can learn from taking the arm of a half-breed.” She paused, a cruel smile spreading across her hooded face. “How ironic. The right arm of Voltron losing his own. Of course, we’d give you a replacement. Prosthetics have improved since we gave Champion his, and well...it would be interesting to see how you’d fare with one of your own." 

A horrified shiver ran down Keith’s mutilated spine. Haggar wanted to take his arm from him and experiment with it. She wanted to turn him into _Shiro,_ the man who had been through more than he could ever truly be able to remember.

Although, wouldn’t it be what he deserved?

Keith wasn’t as strong as he had thought himself to be. His ego had gotten too large, to demanding, and now he had paid the price for getting cocky. He’d lost the duel and in it, his freedom. He didn’t deserve to be free, not when he could barely fight off his own captors.

 _No,_ the last vestiges of hope pressed back, refusing to give into Lotor’s bittersweet words. _You have to escape. You_ can _escape._

“Of course,” Haggar was now standing over Keith with a blue vial in hand. “We can’t have an injured arm to examine. That would be…” She paused, uncorking the vial. “A waste. We’ll have to remedy that.”

She poured the vial over his arm. Blue liquid dripped down his arm and Keith let out a sharp gasp at the shock of cold that soothed the aching burns on the underside of his arm. It spread like it had a will of its own, turning the burns on his back and the underside of his arms and legs into a mess of tight puckered scars. He squeezed his eyes shut as the cold turned painful, tightening around his skin and sealing, tugging and twisting his flesh in ways that shouldn’t have been possible.

In a moment, it was over. Keith’s back was still aching, granted, but he was at least not whimpering with suppressed pain with every subtle movement. He looked away from the way Haggar’s yellow eyes all but _gleamed_ as he put the now-empty glass down on the tray to Keith’s left.

“Incredible,” she hummed. “Your half-Galran genes accelerated the healing salve. For a human that process would have been...exceedingly painful due to the difference in our species. But for you...it worked just as it should.”

She pressed her fingers into Keith’s arm and pulled on it, testing the muscle and taking mental measurements as she did so. Keith watched, his stomach bottoming out as she traced the length of his arm - shoulder to tip of his fingers - and she grinned, fangs teasing her lips.

“You truly will be a _special_ specimen, Keith.”

Keith tried to glare at her, but it felt disheartened. Rage still simmered in his veins, but it was subdued. The duel weighed heavy on his mind, but he had no time to process what it meant. Only that he had failed and that he was _weak_ as to lose to someone like Lotor.

 _That’s the first step,_ something in Keith’s head argued. _He wants to break you._

Although, what was so bad about breaking? Perhaps it would make the pain stop. Perhaps Lotor would leave him be.

Keith felt like a fool.

Lotor would never let him be. He’d strip him of everything he knew and then would throw Keith away. He’d figure out everything about Voltron, right down to Pidge’s favorite cookies and Shiro’s least favorite board game. Keith had to _protect them._ That was what he did. He was Voltron’s sword and shield, their step they fell back on for _security_ and _shelter._ He wouldn’t fail them now.

He had before when Shiro went missing. He would not fail again.

_Right?_

Keith shook his head, ignoring the way Haggar’s eyebrow quirked upwards in interest. He wouldn’t let her - or Lotor or Laynek - break him. The first step was to escape. It didn’t matter how many supplies he did or didn’t have. The only thing that mattered was getting home. The team wasn’t coming for him. He’s made almost absolute sure of that during that fateful transmission. Besides, he knew the team wasn’t dumb enough to give up the universe’s only hope just for one of it’s Paladins. If worst came to worse, they could find a new Red Paladin and move on.

What mattered now wasn’t that Keith was on his own. It wasn’t that the team wasn’t coming no matter what happened. It was that Haggar had gotten nothing from him thus far and she wouldn’t get anything else.

getting home.

Haggar had gotten nothing from him thus far. She wouldn’t get anything else.

“I wonder what goes through your head,” Haggar purred suddenly. Keith’s amethyst gaze jumped to her. “You’re remarkably adept at fighting off my probing. It makes your thoughts and memories all the more enticing.”

Keith held in a shudder. “Fuck off.”

Haggar sneered. “I have made the measurements I need. I have no need for you right now, but I will soon.” She purred, her lips trailing horrible burning lines on his cheek, her fingers teasing the edges of his bangs. “I _do_ so love a challenge, Keith. I hope you will be as enticing of a pet as the Champion was.”

She turned away. The door slid open and a pair of Galra guards entered, hauling Keith to his feet. His muscles ached, and the unhealed hole that had been twisted in his arm pulsed with pain, but Keith chose to ignore it. His back didn’t burn to the point of near impossible agony. He felt reasonably _okay_ for the first time since he’d woken up.

A plan started formulating in Keith’s head. It was half-baked at best and the only weapon Keith could see on the Galrans were the standard blasters. He’d hoped for a sword, as he was nowhere near as good a shot as Lance, but he’d take what he could get. Besides, if he remembered the route to the chamber where he and Lotor had their duel (guilt and desperation clawed up his spine at the thought and it took nearly all of Keith’s willpower to chase it away) he could grab his bayard and feel a million times more comfortable.

The Galran guards clearly hadn’t been informed of Keith’s tendencies to try and escape at every given opportunity. They growled to themselves in their native tongue, shooting Keith glares and muttering ‘half-breed’ under their breath at every given opportunity. Keith said nothing, keeping his gaze forward. He’d have one shot at this. In the window in between his cell door closing, Keith would have to make his move.

Otherwise, it was all over. He’d lose his arm, his will to keep fighting back, _all of it._

The team was not coming for him. He had made sure of that. Keith would have to save himself this time.

He turned another purple corridor. Keith tried to memorize the route so he could get out, but everything looked the same. At this point, he’d have to run and keep running until he found the pods and get out. It wasn’t a solid plan, but it was all he had.

The Galrans shoved him to a faceless door. Keith hadn’t been here since he had awoken this first time, and it was just as boring as he remembered.  It spread open after a simple palm scan, and they pushed him forward, following him into the cell. A smirk curled over Keith’s lips.

_Their first mistake._

The door closed automatically behind the guards. One approached him, grabbing his manacles and preparing to seal them to the chains that tightened and untightened with every subtle move Keith would make.

But, as soon as the Galran’s fingers made contact with his own, Keith acted.

He spun around, using the unsuspecting Galran’s momentum to his advantage, and pushed the hulking brute to the wall with his forearm. Elbow digging into the Galran’s neck, he turned a burning amethyst glare - revived with a fire to _protect_ and to _save_ \- to the other one that had begun advancing upon him.

Keith’s foot lashed out, kicking the other Galran hard enough to send him into the wall. An odd purple remote fell out of his pocket and Keith used his free leg to pull it to him. He observed it, the symbols and letters all mashing together in a very complex language Keith had no knowledge of. So, with a Galran spluttering under his arm, Keith opted to destroy it.

He brought his foot down once, twice, three times before it finally cracked and smashed into pieces under Keith’s heel. Metal dug into the calloused skin and Keith held in a hiss of pain at the feeling of metal and wires cutting away at his flesh. Instead, he focused on the _glorious_ feeling of the manacles falling away from his wrists. They hit the floor with a satisfying clunk, and Keith moved his now-free left hand and fumbled for the Galran’s holster.

He spluttered, grasping at Keith’s forearm with his claws, finding purchase in the Red Paladin’s skin, tearing his flesh away like ribbons. Keith ignored the incoming pain as the other Galran began to regain his senses from his head being smashed against the wall and pulled the blaster free. He pressed it to the Galran’s gut, made eye contact with him, and pulled the trigger.

The Galran howled in pain and crumpled. Purple blood oozed from the hole Keith had blown into his armor. Keith straightened up to turn to the other Galran, who was staring at him with a mix of shock and horror and raised the gun.

His shot struck true, dead center in the Galran’s forehead. He crumpled, eyes going lifeless. Keith dropped the blaster and fumbled for belt of the holster on the other one. He wasn’t sure if Galran weapons had an ammo limit, and he was sure he’d need every single bullet in order for him to get out in one piece. The injured Galran behind him groaned as Keith pulled the holster free. Keith ignored the noise as he examined the blaster now in his hand, rivulets of crimson blood from the injuries the other Galran had clawed into his arm rolling off his elbow.

Keith moved quickly, using the large holster as some sort of side bag, looping it over his shoulder and tying it into a knot in front of his chest. He adjusted it so he could grab the spare blaster in an instant if he needed it and grabbed his original weapon.

The handle of the blaster was already stained with blood as Keith stood up unsteadily. His foot ached from where he had cut into it by smashing the remote, but he was too deep now to even think about anything _other_ than getting the fuck out of here, injured or not.

Keith looked up to the small barely noticeable camera in the corner of the cell. He hadn’t noticed it before, and likely everyone on the ship was now aware that the Red Paladin was walking free, armed and _angry beyond belief._

Laynek could not break him. Haggar could not break him. Lotor _could not break him._ Keith was on his way to freedom, and nothing could stop him now.

Fixing that furious amethyst gaze on the camera, Keith flipped it off. He knew those on the other side wouldn’t know the meaning of the gesture, but it made him feel slightly better. Then, he raised one of the blasters he held and pulled the trigger. The camera was soon a smoking mechanical mess, a bullet having destroyed it.

Keith took a deep breath, raising his uninjured hand to the panel next to the door. It slid open as his Galra genes commanded and he took a deep breath, stepping out into the corridor. He glanced left then right, taking in his options. Remembering that he had gone mostly left to get to the room where he had lost the duel with Lotor he turned in that direction, gripping the blaster with his injured arm.

He was free. And he sure as _fuck_ wasn’t going to give up now, not when he was so close. Lotor had gotten close (he still was close) to breaking him, but he would not succeed. He would _never_ succeed in breaking Voltron’s double-edged sword. A smirk curled over Keith’s lips, adrenaline coursing through his veins.

And Keith ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And he's out! 
> 
> Keith's gathered his courage (and his wits) and managed to escape. He'll deal with the repercussions of killing one Galran and leaving another to die later, he's got some pods and a bayard to find. 
> 
> This chapter was so much fun to write! Lotor came so so close to breaking Keith, but he's more stubborn than anyone could have bargained for. If all goes well and Keith does manage to escape, he'll look back on this and probably feel proud after all he's accomplished. Assuming the team can comfort him and get him through the horror of what he's been through. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Leave a comment/kudos if you did. I'd love to hear from you. I want to know everything that you thought about this chapter, thoughts, favorite moments, or even theories for what's going to happen! I try to respond to every single one of them, just because they mean so much to me. 
> 
> See you next Saturday! 
> 
> Want to stay updated on changes in the update schedule/new VLD fics? Come dance on into my [tumblr](https://chocolatechip-master.tumblr.com/) and say hi!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, running just isn't good enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't beta-read, so all mistakes are on me. 
> 
> Enjoy!

The alarms starting ringing as soon as Keith was halfway down the hallway.

They were loud and blaring, red lights flooding the hallway as the entire facility entered lockdown. To Keith’s immense relief, no doors began to shut down, barring his progress, but it would make it harder for him to get out.

The blood gushing down Keith’s arm was making it hard to concentrate. At this rate, he’d have to abandon his bayard in favor of dressing his wounds so he wouldn’t pass out before he got to an escape pod. That would make things a lot harder, but at least Keith wouldn’t be in danger of unconsiousness anymore.

He gritted his teeth, tightening his grip around the blaster in his hand as he took another turn. He didn’t know how long it would take for him to be found - or, rather, how long it would be until Keith had to _kill_ again - and when that happened, he _needed_ something he didn’t need to aim with.

He turned another corridor, realizing that somehow, this hallway looked _familiar._ Vestiges of a memory, marching down this corridor behind Lotor with fire simmering in his veins, came flooding Keith’s mind through the screaming of the alarms. He practically tore towards the door at the far end, pressing his good hand to the scanner. It slid open and Keith winced at the interior of the training room before him.

It was clean and orderly, just as it had been when he’d first came in. The only remnants of the duel was the splatter of red at the far side of the room where Keith had _lost._ He swallowed, panic already on its way up his throat, forcing himself to push away the horrible memories of nothing but _pain_ after landing on his back. He had a mission to accomplish. He could _not_ get sidetracked.

Shoving the thought to the back of his mind, Keith hobbled toward the weapons, leaving a bloody footprint behind him with every step. He fished through the swords and spears, smearing blood across the handles while he looked for any hint of red and white. However, it appeared - with a sinking feeling in Keith’s gut - that his bayard was not here. Someone had moved it. Where, Keith had no idea. He was not only stuck with the blasters, he’d have to leave his bayard behind when he escaped.

He just didn’t have the _time_ to hunt it down.

“In here!”

Keith spun around. A Galra was marching into the room, outlined by the red lights in the hallway beyond. Keith raised the blaster with both hands, his injured arm screaming in protest. He put his finger on the trigger, shoulders tensing as he met with the yellowed gaze of the Galran.

The Galran was fast, but Keith was faster. A few shots to the Galran’s legs and one to his hand was enough to send him toppling and unable to use his weapon. Keith dropped his stance, blood dripping off of his fingers, and he leapt over the Galran’s groaning form. He ran down the hallway, cursing under his breath and his heart pounding in his ears.

He should have killed the Galran. Keith _knew_ that.

But he couldn’t.

They were his people as much as the humans back home, and evil as they were, Keith was already feeling sick for murdering the one back in his cell in cold blood.

He took another turn. The side-bag Keith had turned the other blaster holster into was bouncing uncomfortably against his thigh, almost to the point where it was starting to hurt. It'd probably bruise after this ordeal was done with. His lungs ached, gasping for air but Keith simply didn’t have the time to slow down. The alarms were still blaring. They'd find him and detain him again if he stopped to catch his breath. Besides, they would discover him before long. Keith had to be in a pod by the time that happened. 

Sentries were now marching down the hallway towards him and Keith hesitated. These were machines, but he had never fought them from ranged before. He’d always been in the forefront of the battle, slashing and hacking with a  _sword_ rather than with a blaster. He had no idea what to do.

 _I guess nows a better time to learn than any,_ Keith thought, gritting his teeth.

He raised the blaster painfully and fired, the trigger slick with his own blood. The first bullet hit a sentry’s chest, the second accidentally shooting the one behind it in the head. Keith darted forwards at the opening he had created and slipped in between the sentries all swinging wildly for him.

Agony rippled up his arm as one lucky strike hit his injured arm and it was only by pure willpower that Keith did not drop his blaster. He let out a shrill cry of pain, blood flwing anew from the wound. Keith’s mind went fuzzy. The alarms turned from an all-encompassing cry to background noise. Muffled, like he was wearing earmuffs. Keith staggered forward, pressing the muzzle of the gun into _something_ hard to his right and fired one shot.

The sentry crumpled and Keith stumbled, breaking into an uncoordinated run. His arm was pulsing with pain, thrumming like it had a heartbeat. Keith had to switch arms now, gripping the gun with his better arm, the handle and trigger slick with blood. He tucked the other one up against his stomach, blood staining his skin scarlet.

“ _Fuck,_ fuck,” Keith whispered vehemently, trying to will the pain away. His efforts were in vain, however, and Keith’s mind grew more and more fuzzy with every painful step. He had to either dress the wound or get on an escape pod as soon as fucking possible and hope it had first-aid supplies on board. 

Keith took another unsteady turn. Something turned the corner ahead and Keith hardly looked before he fired, whining in pain as he jostled his arm wrong. His foot had at least stopped bleeding, but it didn’t hurt any less with every step. The body crumpled at the end of the hallway and Keith jumped over it, taking a chance with the nearby door as another sentry troop came charging around the corner.

He plowed through it and pressed his back to the door as it slid shut behind him. He looked around for anything he could use to wrap his wound, but the room he’d stumbled into was the Galran's living quarters, not an infirmary. It also appeared to be the only place on the ship that wasn't spinning red, the alarms muffled beyond the door. They were still ungodly amounts of loud, but it was at least quiet. The room was thankfully empty, with no sign of purple fur or yellow eyes. The bed frames were all metal, with lumpy mattresses covered in, predictably, violets quilts. 

Keith’s breath hitched.

_Quilts._

_Fabric._

Keith pressed the inside of the ID scanner, prompting for it to lock behind him so he wouldn’t be disturbed. He stumbled to the nearest bed and dropped his blaster with a loud _thunk_ on the ground. He used his good arm to pull the quilt off, and he was surprised at how easily it came off. Either the Galran the bed belonged to was awful at making their bed, or the quilt wasn’t as firmly tucked as Keith thought it was.

Keith grabbed an edge of the quilt with his teeth, using his arm to pull the rest of the fabric in the opposite direction. But after the only reward for his efforts was an aching mouth and the barest of rips in the thick material, Keith had to turn to other methods.

He began searching through the cabinets on the far side of the room. He needed something - _anything_ \- to help him rip the quilts before he bled out in the Galran’s sleeping quarters. He dug with his good hand through boxes of belongings, trying to find anything to help him. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for - something sharp, maybe? - but he knew he had to find it soon.

Keith overturned a pair of enormous boots and caught a glimpse of something oddly shiny tucked away in the corner. He picked it up by the handle, observing what looked like a butcher knife but with teeth that were sharpened to a point on the sharp side of the blade. It was clearly stolen from a kitchen somewhere else on the ship. It was well hidden. Keith wouldn’t have spotted it if he wasn’t so attentive, which was something he now attributed to his Galra genes. 

It would do.

Keith staggered back the quilt and almost collapsed. Ignoring the pulsing in his injured arm as he moved it to grip the blanket, Keith used his non-bleeding hand to cut little-starting points in the blankets. He was strongly reminded of his time in the desert, where he cut apart strips of his own shirt to bandage a wound he’d accidentally gotten in the middle of nowhere searching for what he would later discover as the Blue Lion’s energy.

Keith used both his hands this time as he pulled, just to gain a little bit of leverage, hissing in pain as he yanked apart the quilt, strip by strip. It was near mind-numbing, the process slowed by the pain and blood dripping onto his flight-suit pants. Every so often he’d have to stop, gasping in pain as his arm pulsed with horrible agony.

Finally, it was done. Keith began to wrap the heavy material around his wound. It weighed his arm down considerably, blood wetting the purple and turning it magenta as he worked. Keith tied a knot around his elbow to keep his makeshift bandages in place and began work on a sling. He tied a shorter strip around his wrist and another near the knot at his elbow and wrapped it around his head, letting the weight rest against the back of his neck. He tested his new sling, his injury swinging in its bandaging. The pain was considerably easier to manage now that Keith didn’t have to constantly think about keeping his arm safe and tucked to his stomach. The sling would do that for him.  

Keith rose unsteadily. His foot was no longer a concern. While the cuts were fresh, it wasn’t bleeding and leaving his tracks everywhere anymore. It hurt with every step, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle.

Now...now he had to get out.

Unlocking the door, Keith scooped up his gun and adjusted the holster wrapped around his chest. He put his finger on the trigger and swung out of the door, back into the loudness of the alarm and the red-flooded hallways. The sentries were no longer in sight, which was good for Keith. He cast a glance down at his arm and tore down the hallway.

It was harder, now, to use his handprint to open doors. He’d have to tuck his blaster under his bandaged arm and then take it back. The process was tedious, took too much time, and was probably why purple blood now stained most of the hallways.

Keith stepped over another Galra soldier’s downed body and turned the corner.

_His first mistake._

A bullet whizzed past his head and embedded itself in his shoulder. He let out a loud scream of agony, stooping low to grip the wound suddenly burning holes into his consciousness. He raised his head weakly to look at the sentry that had fired the shot, smoke curling from the muzzle of its blaster.

He stumbled sideways, pressing his now-bloody palm to the scanner of the nearest door and collapsed inside. He let out a soft sob of pain, gripping his shoulder and trying to regain control of his rapidly beating heart. The sentry was now banging on the door, likely sending distress signals to every other sentry - and Galra officer on the prowl for him - to his location.

Keith could hardly hear over his own gasping breaths. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he let out a high keen, leaning forwards. He scrambled for the sling, undoing it around his neck and relieving some of the pressure his shot shoulder was carrying. Then, he used his good hand to wrap it messily around the wound. Magenta spread from where the blood soaked through the quilt.

Keith let out a loud gasp of pain as he moved wrong. Hot blood oozed from the wound, pressing against the bandages that were just _too wet_ against his fatigued skin. He leaned his head back, pressing it against the door and listening to the pounding against the door that seemed to increase in intensity. More sentries had clearly joined the pounding party.

 _Another mistake._ Keith thought. He had made one that had landed him in this situation in the first place, and this was his second, more-fatal one. Because of it, he was bleeding out in a strange room, in the middle of space, with his teammates god-knew how far away.

Keith wanted to cry. He wanted to sob, to scream, and for his father to come and chase his wounds away and tell him _everything was going to be okay._

But it _wasn’t_ okay. Keith had his one shot at freedom, and he was fucking it up.

He wanted to go home. He wanted to _be_ home, in the cabin that had taken desert monsoons and sandstorms and lulled him to sleep in safety and security.

He wanted to see Shiro, who he knew would wrap him in blankets, reassure him and just _be there_ like he always was. He wanted to see Hunk, who would bake him goods and make something weird for him to play with while he grew restless on bedrest. He wanted to see Pidge, who would rig up a video game for him to play. Keith had never played a video game before, but he’d always _wanted_ to. He even wanted to see Lance, who he wanted to watch smile, the corners of his ocean eyes crinkling in the way he was familiar with. In the way he _trusted._

He wanted to see Allura and Coran too, the Alteans that hadn’t understood any of the Earth customs at first in an adorably endearing way. He wanted to watch Coran groom his mustache when he thought no one was watching, see Allura chat with the mice and giggle at a dumb joke one of them had just cracked.

Keith just wanted to see his family again.

He sobbed.

He wanted to _go home._

But the first step for that was picking himself up off of the ground and _getting shit done._

This wasn’t over yet. Not until Keith was lying on the ground with life gone from his eyes. Not until he got to see them again.

_This wasn't over yet._

Keith pulled himself up, his blaster held tightly in his good arm. He pushed through the fire burning into his consciousness, begging him to surrender to the darkness. Through the agony of the bullet in his shoulder, the pain of the wound clawed into his arm.

He was _going to go home._

The door slid open. Keith’s bullet was the first thing out.

The sentry pounding against it crumpled, three more crashing into the wound, stumbling over the mechanical corpse of the first. Keith shoved the butt-end of his blaster into one sentry’s face, firing a blast at another. Both of them crumpled, the first’s helmet dented. Keith turned around, pivoting on his injured heel to fire a final shot, directly into the final sentry’s chest.

He didn’t stop to admire his handiwork. Instead, Keith turned and ran. 

There was a door at the end of the hallway. One that drew Keith towards it unconsciously, and he tore towards it as fast as he could. There was a pounding of footsteps behind him - a mixture of heavy Galran boots and mechanical thuds - and Keith picked up the pace. His injuries screamed with agony, blood making the bandages stick to his skin. 

He all but collided with the far wall, pressing his palm to the scanner. It slid open and Keith tumbled through. It slid shut behind him and he locked it as fast as he could manage, and there were several heavy thuds as the group chasing him collided with the door. 

He let out a shaky laugh, backing away and turning around to see what this room offered him. 

His heart soared, feeling lighter than it had been in ages. There was a pod in front of him, fully loaded and clearly docked for departure.

But…

Someone was blocking the way. 

Unblemished violet skin, white hair in rolling waves, and yellow eyes with alluring violet irises. 

_ Lotor.  _

Keith choked on his next gasp of air. Chest heaving, he locked gazes with the Galran prince. He stood with his hands folded behind his back and a smirk playing at his lips. Sentries made a wall between Keith and the pod. Impassable. Inescapable. 

_ Keith was trapped.  _

Lotor raised his hands. He began to clap, each one bouncing off of the walls of the room and all so  _ mockingly  _ loud. Something horrible began to squeeze Keith’s heart, a cold feeling that turned the blood in his veins to ice and his mind to almost stop processing the world around him. 

“Well done, Keith,” Lotor’s tone was condescending. “You were so,  _ so  _ close.” 

Keith was too lost in his fear, in the realization of failure, to respond. 

“Of course,” Lotor said. “I couldn’t allow you to get away that easily. I have far too good a bargaining chip to simply let it get away just like that.” 

“Wh-What?” Keith managed to say. 

“I knew you’d escape somehow,” Lotor said. “I’m not foolish enough to believe that our duel was enough to break your spirit. So...I returned to the training room knowing you would upon your escape, and took your weapon.” He reached behind him, unhooking something from his belt. He waved it leisurely, Keith’s bayard in his hand. 

Keith felt like he was about to throw up. “You’re the one who took my…”  

“Yes,” Lotor agreed, cutting across Keith. “I was. After that I came here...to wait. And low and behold, the alarms began to sing and here you are now.” He paused, a grin splitting his lips, his fangs brushing against his bottom lip. “You were  _ so close,  _ Keith. But...I’m afraid you’ve failed. You failed your teammates, the universe, and most importantly, you failed  _ yourself.”  _

Something inside Keith broke at the words. 

He collapsed, his knees colliding with the ground with a jarring impact he hardly felt. The blaster fell from his hand, landing in a clatter on the ground. Lotor’s expression showed nothing but triumph. 

Keith had  _ failed.  _ He’d made one mistake after another that had cost him not only his freedom, but the entire universe’s too. He’d never see his family again. He’d never feel Shiro’s reassuring hand on his shoulder, taste Hunk’s cooking, Pidge’s small but fierce hugs, Lance’s dumb but still somehow amusing puns, Coran’s gentle smile, or Allura’s reassuring presence again. 

He’d  _ fucked up so badly.  _ He was nothing more than a  _ failure.  _

Lotor’s eyes gleamed at the tears now filling the Red Paladin’s eyes. He had done it. He had doused the fire that burned like the sun in Keith’s eyes. He’d done the impossible. 

He had broken Keith. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You thought Keith would get out, wouldn't you? Nope! Lotor's too much of a smartass (also a jackass, let's be real here) to let that happen, especially so soon. 
> 
> Things went bad in this chapter real fast. Especially with the fact that Lotor has now completely and utterly broken Keith. The poor boy just wants to get out, but now that Lotor's proven himself to be smarter than Keith bargained for...well...he's got nothing else to do. 
> 
> Next chapter, Keith deals with the repercussions of his escape, dealt first-hand by Laynek. What fun. 
> 
> In other writing news, I'm starting a Bad Things Happen Bingo!! If you guys want, I'll post the prompts on my tumblr for you all to see. I've got most things planned out, like which characters suffer with what, and I've got a lot of variety. Even some stuff with Coran! That'll be fun. 
> 
> If you want to see updates on my Bad Things Happen Bingo (they won't have a scripted update schedule, they'll just post whenever I get them done) pop on into my [tumblr](https://chocolatechip-master.tumblr.com/)! 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thank you so much for reading, it means more than you know. All the comments last chapter made me laugh and I genuinely enjoyed reading every single one. 
> 
> I want to know what you think about this chapter! Theories you have, hopes, what you think will happen, etc. I adore feedback in all of its forms. 
> 
> See you next Saturday!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith pays the price for what he's done. 
> 
> Shiro gets an answer...and a spark of hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't beta-read, so all mistakes are on me. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Keith didn’t remember getting dragged to his cell. Or the collar they fit around his neck. Or even falling asleep in that cold room with tears dried on his cheeks. He didn’t remember being dragged upright and pulled back to the torture chamber, passing out from agony as the Galran guards dragged him by his arms, the bullet in his shoulder spurting blood and pulsing like a heartbeat. 

All he knew was that when he woke up, his makeshift bandages were gone, and he was back on the examination table. 

Keith wanted to start crying again at the cold metal against his newly-scarred back. Because of him, because of his  _ stupid fucking mistakes,  _ he was never going home. He had promised himself he wouldn’t screw up like he used to. That he wouldn’t let himself get carried away by reckless decisions and pure adrenaline that made him make stupid mistakes. If he’d gone with Lance and Pidge back then, escaped with them rather than staying and fighting for the glory…

Maybe he wouldn’t be in this situation. 

Keith choked on a soundless sob. 

He wanted to see Shiro. He wanted Shiro to embrace him in that comforting hug that just radiated  _ safety  _ and warmth. Never in his life - not even after he’d been pronounced dead at Kerberos - had Keith wanted to see his brother more. 

The door slid open with a hiss. Keith turned his head, his new collar scraping and bumping against the metal under him, not even bothering to blink his tears away. He recognized his visitor, a sick feeling growing in his stomach. Laynek’s hard, yellow eyes were gleaming at him with a sick sort of fascination, glee Keith had never seen before on a Galran’s face stretching his mouth into a soulless grin. 

“At last,” he hissed. “You’re  _ done for.”  _

A tiny, hopeful part of Keith wanted him to bare his teeth and fix Laynek with the hardest glare he could. Because he was  _ not  _ done for, he was  _ not, he was not… _

_ Wasn’t he?  _

His escape attempt was his last chance and he’d overlooked everything. Lotor, the guards, even obstacles in his way. Now, he was paying the price for his incompetence.

He’d  _ killed  _ Galran soldiers to get what he wanted. 

And he’d still lost. 

Lotor had been playing him like a deck of cards, and instead of dealing out the devastating hand he had, Keith walked right into Lotor’s trap. 

Keith had placed down a queen. Lotor had given him a sly smile and set down the  _ king.  _

Laynek hissed a horrible laugh as tears pooled into Keith’s eyes once again. “Look at you. A Red Paladin so full of fire and fury...reduced to  _ this.  _ To  _ nothing. _ No longer a Paladin of the mighty Voltron. Just a  _ prisoner.  _ A prisoner, sniveling in his own rags. _ ”  _

He leaned forwards, claws wrapping around Keith’s injured arm. Keith hissed in pain, trying to shift away, but found himself trapped as Laynek lifted his bound wrist off of the table with seemingly no effort at all. His claws grazed Keith’s wound, sending pinpricks of pain up Keith's spine. 

“This…” Laynek fixed Keith with a cold glare. “Is for the soldiers you killed. Weak they may have been...their fate should not have been sealed by a  _ half breed.”  _

Laynek’s claws dug into Keith’s partially-closed wound and ripped into it, tearing flesh away. Keith let out a high-pitched scream of pain, smashing his head back against the table so hard he saw stars. The collar clanged loudly. Laynek seemed amused by the noise, digging his claws into the wound and pulling the skin up and up. He tore apart Keith’s elbow as Keith  _ begged  _ and  _ pleaded  _ for Laynek to stop but he  _ didn’t.  _

“Were you proud of this wound, Prisoner?” Laynek taunted. “Did you think it was a symbol of your strength? That you could overpower two Galran guards and manage to escape?” 

“N-No…” Keith whimpered, hating how pathetic he sounded. How  _ small  _ his voice was.

“I think you’re  _lying.”_

Keith screamed again as Laynek’s claws tore grooves into his flesh. Blood slid over Laynek’s hands, seeping from in between his fingers and  _ drip, dripping  _ onto the floor. Keith felt dizzy. Light-headed with blood loss and pain. 

 

Laynek tore at Keith’s flesh like it was nothing more than paper, shredding it in his iron grip in a ceaseless cycle of agony. Keith sobbed, the skin of his throat straining against the collar.

“Unfortunately, your right arm is off-limits,” Laynek sneered, pausing in his ruthless ripping for a moment. “Haggar wants that arm for herself.” 

Keith’s heart suddenly felt like it was pumping out ice because suddenly everything seemed very cold. Dread Keith didn’t realize he could feel pooled into his gut and froze everything down to his toes. Haggar’s gentle,  _ horrible  _ laugh echoed through his head, her lips trailing burning lines across his face. 

The collar suddenly felt far too tight. He could hardly breathe with it on, as it was pressing painfully against the purple and yellow bruises mottled onto his throat. He tried not to think of Haggar - of her words - but it was no use. 

_“I have no need of you now, but I will soon.”_

His arm. Oh _god,_ she _still_ wanted his _arm._

_“I hope you will be as enticing of a pet as the Champion was.”_

No. God, please no.

Keith choked on his own fear as Laynek let out a bellowing laugh and dropped Keith’s arm back onto the table. It hit the cold metal with a painful _squelch_ that made Keith’s own stomach rebel. The cuffs slid back mechanically, magnetism keeping him from moving. A trail of smeared blood marked the trail in some horrible imitation of the motion one would make to do a snow-angel. Except this wasn’t beautiful and full of childish glee. This was full of copper and iron; crimson, revolting and _tainted._

_Failure, failure, failure._

_My arm, my arm, my arm._

Keith chanted the words in his head like a mantra. He couldn’t escape them, not the dread, not the inevitable loss of something as important to him as his arm. 

He wouldn’t be in this situation if he hadn’t lost. If he hadn’t failed his escape attempt. 

Maybe this was retribution. A way to atone for all the lives he’d taken, ultimately, for nothing. A way to show Keith that he was never getting out. That his fate was to stay here in the Galra’s grasp, while his teammates went off to save the universe. 

_ He’d rather die.  _

Keith sobbed again. Half in pain, half in fear. 

He would rather  _ die  _ than get his arm sawed off. Rather  _ die  _ than to live with himself right now. With the weight of  _ failure  _ pressing in against his chest. 

Laynek chuckled high above him. “Say your farewells to your arm, Prisoner. Perhaps then, you will be humbled.” 

Keith could only cry in response. 

Five days. 

It had been five days since Shiro had let his little brother down. Since he’d let Keith get  _ captured.  _

And he'd hated every single moment of it.

They’d sent out a transmission to Lotor two days ago, now.  There was still no response. 

The Castle of Lions was falling apart. Allura seemed more and more exhausted, clearly not getting enough sleep. Coran as well, endlessly searching for a signal from Keith’s armor. Pidge and Hunk had locked themselves in Pidge’s workshop, trying endlessly to perfect their tracker. Allura had tried to pry the quintessence out of the Red Lion, but the attempt had left her exhausted and barely able to speak. 

They hadn’t tried it again. 

Shiro hadn’t seen Lance. Last he knew, Lance had tried to clean Keith’s room of any space dust that had gathered, had broken down on the floor at the sight of the boy’s knife on the table. After that, he'd hidden himself away in his room.  Shiro didn’t know if he came back out. 

Shiro himself was falling apart all the same. 

The nightmares had gotten worse. With no one to help him cope, with endless, horrible scenarios of what they could be doing to Keith running through his head, Shiro was restless. Terrified beyond belief and desperate to see Keith again. To make sure he was okay. That he was  _ alive.  _

Shiro wouldn’t be able to live with himself if Keith died out there. Alone and scared, tortured beyond the person he used to be. 

God, Shiro was so,  _ so  _ scared.

Then, when Allura called him onto the bridge for a private meeting, Shiro found himself even more terrified. Afraid of another transmission where Keith would have even more bruises around his neck; bloody and injured beyond what Shiro could imagine. 

_ God, what if they took his arm like they took mine- _

The door to the bridge slid open, banishing the thought before Shiro could do it himself. 

Allura was waiting for him, her expression pinched as she watched a transmission on a large holographic screen over and over again. The Galra on the screen had tumbling white hair and far-too perfect skin. 

_ Lotor.  _

Shiro’s heart leapt into his throat. “Did he reply?” 

Allura gave a single, terse nod. “Yes.” 

Shiro all but scrambled to her side, looking for any sign of Keith over Lotor’s shoulder, or any indication of where he was. Unfortunately, Lotor appeared to have thought this transmission through, as he was standing in a dark room with no distinguishable features aside from himself in frame. 

Shiro swore under his breath. 

“Can we trace it?” He asked. 

“No,” Allura said. She turned to look at Shiro. “I...want to show you his terms. But I must warn you...the things he speaks about - about Keith - they are-” 

“I don’t care,” Shiro interrupted. “I just want to know how we can get him back.” 

Allura’s frowned deepened, but nodded and didn’t protest. She turned back to the screen and with the slightest inclination of her head, the transmission started over. 

“Paladins of Voltron,” Lotor’s tone was too light. Too conversational for the topic at hand. It made the hairs rise on the back of Shiro’s neck. “I’m pleased to hear you’ve accepted my terms. If all goes well, your Red Paladin will be returned to you, none the worse for wear.” 

“Liar,” Shiro snarled under his breath. Allura tensed next to him.

“However,” Lotor said. “I must warn you. He made an escape attempt earlier. He was subdued after a bit of a chase, and his punishment will be the removal of his right arm, for experimentation. Our witch has never had a half-breed’s flesh to examine before.” 

Shiro felt like hurling. 

Keith’s arm. They wanted _his arm._

_ Just like they wanted Shiro’s. _

God, why Keith? What had that poor kid done wrong? 

Shiro wished he knew the answer.

“As for the terms of our alliance…” Lotor’s grin stretched across his face. “We will meet in the Nayak System in three quintants. There, we will exchange the Lions of Voltron for the Red Paladin. However... _ broken  _ he is.” 

Shiro took a furious step forward, forgetting Lotor could not hear him. “What did you do to him?  _ What the hell did you do to him?!” _

Allura placed her hand on his flesh arm, the touch grounding him. Shiro started and glanced back at her. Her jeweled eyes were wet with tears. 

“I will see you there.” Lotor grinned widely. “I look forward to meeting you all.” 

The screen cut out then, like an old TV being turned off. Anger simmered in Shiro’s veins, white-hot and bubbling. He felt like screaming, throwing something, and sobbing uncontrollably all at the same time. 

“That’s too long,” Shiro snarled. “We-I...that can’t happen. We have to arrange sooner. Keith’s already been gone five days, we can’t make that a week, we  _ can’t-”  _

“Shiro,” Allura’s voice was strained. “I know. I know we can’t but those are the terms. If we want Keith back, that is what we must abide by.” 

“Like hell we have to!” 

Shiro couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this  _ angry.  _ Has such a violent urge to beat the living daylights out of a certain Galran prince.  The last time he’d been remotely close to this agitated was when Adam had landed himself into the hospital shoving a couple out of the way of an oncoming semi. 

But Shiro hadn’t been angry then. 

Just very,  _ very  _ scared. 

“I’m sorry,” Allura’s voice was small. “We...we have to. I don’t know what else they’re doing to him, but I... _we_ now know they want his arm...Shiro I’m...I’m  _ sorry…”  _

“It’s not your fault,” Shiro said. “If anything it’s...it’s mine. I pulled away when there was still a chance for Keith to get out. I-” 

“No,” Allura said. “I agreed to that mission in the first place. None of this blame should fall on you. It should be I, for planning and going through with it.” 

Shiro bristled. “Allura-” 

The door slid open. Both Shiro and Allura turned to see Coran, out of breath and holding an Altean communicator in his hand. He leaned against the doorframe, panting and his mustache unkempt and sticking up in weird directions. 

“Coran?” Allura spoke. Her voice was congested. She was holding back tears. “What is the matter?” 

“The coalition rebels, Princess,” Coran held out the communicator, gasping for breath every other word. “They’ve got their eyes on a rather large Galran ship, hiding in the Nayak System.” 

Shiro’s heart skipped a beat. Allura’s eyes were just as wide as his. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes,” Coran said. 

“Lotor’s terms,” Shiro said, hardly daring to breathe as he looked at Allura. “He wants us to meet in the Nayak System. What if he’s there already? Just orbiting? Waiting for us?” 

“We could organize an assault,” Allura breathed, reading Shiro’s mind. “Have the coalition strike before we even get there to assemble a trade.” 

“Then we don’t have to go undercover on a mission that might get more of us caught,” Shiro breathed. 

“Then…” Allura’s eyes were shining with something Shiro hadn’t seen in the castle in five days. 

_ Hope.  _

“We get Keith back,” Shiro said. 

Allura flapped her hand at Coran. “Contact the rebels immediately. Tell them to attack that ship. I want them to know that prisoners are their  _top_ priority and to be on the lookout for Keith.” 

“Understood, Princess,” Coran had regained some of his old swagger while Allura and Shiro had been speculating. He turned on his heel and hurried down the hallway, his footsteps clicking into silence. 

Allura turned to Shiro, wearing her first genuine smile in five days. “We don’t have to wait.” 

Shiro returned it, a weight feeling as if a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. “We don’t have to wait.” He affirmed. 

Allura let out a half-sob half-laugh as she threw her arms around herself in some kind of self-hug. Shiro looked out the bridge window, at the stars blinking all around them and willed Keith silently to be strong. Just for a little while longer. 

_ Hold on, buddy.  _ Shiro thought, hands curling into fists. His prosthetic creaked.  _ Help is on the way.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yess a little bit of hope! 
> 
> God knows they all need that after what they've been through. Unfortunately, Keith doesn't get that spark of hope because he doesn't know. Hopefully they get there in time before Keith loses something he does _not_ want to lose. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! The continued love and support you guys give as this story keeps going gives me life. I really appreciate it. Truly! 
> 
> If you enjoyed the chapter, leave a comment. I want to know what you think! Theories, favorite part, possible ideas I could incorporate into the story. Anything, really! The longer the better. 
> 
> Thank you!! <3


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day to wait is too long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't beta read, so all mistakes are on me. 
> 
> Enjoy!

There was something oddly comforting about the fact that Keith had made an escape attempt. It meant he still had some fight left in him. That the Galra hadn’t doused the fire that burned so strongly inside him yet.

The thought occurred to Lance as he sat, listening to Ryner detail their new plan on a large holographic screen in front of them. Pidge sat on his left, Hunk on his right, the three of them unconsciously leaning into each other. Hunk had his arm over the both of them while Shiro stood behind him, arms crossed tightly over his chest. Allura - ever the picture of regality - stood silent and strong, but it wouldn’t take a genius to see the tension in her shoulders, the exhaustion woven into her eyes. Coran, too, looked about ready to drop, dark bags under his eyes. Lance knew that in these long few days, Coran hadn't slept nearly enough. He’d been occupying himself with cleaning every inch of the castle; repairing things even if they had nothing wrong with them. Lance had even caught him disassembling a few castle components just so he could put them back together, obsessively checking his tablet at it remained on constant alert for a signal from Keith's armor.

 _“I must keep my hands busy,”_ Coran had said. _“I’m afraid of what I will think about if I stop.”_

Lance understood. There was only so much a long shower could clean away. While Pidge and Hunk had locked themselves away trying to perfect a tracker that had ultimately proved to be futile, Lance had been left to his own devices. He’d tried to occupy himself by cleaning Keith’s room, deciding that their Red Paladin would like his room to be free of space dust and odd smells from his sheets and clothes he _always_ forgot to wash.

It hadn’t gone as planned, though. Lance had taken one step into his room and caught sight of Keith’s knife sitting on the table. Lance remembered the mission, Keith’s steely determination as he told them to go and that he’d ‘catch up later.’

Guilt and fear unlike anything Lance had ever felt before had flooded him. It raw and unexpected, causing hot tears well up in Lance’s eyes as he fell to his knees.

_His fault, his fault, his fault._

He should have _seen_ there were too many sentries for Keith to handle on his own. He should have _known._ But he _didn’t._

And the price for his mistake was Keith - a price so impossibly large, they could never even _hope_ of repaying it.

Lance had fled the room to sob alone in his own, where nobody could hear him cry.

“There are multiple prison cells on that ship according to our intel,” Ryner said, jarring Lance back into reality. She used a piece of metal to warp it into a crude map of the Galra ship currently orbiting the Nayak System. “Our troops will enter here and here-” She pointed the underside and top of the enormous ship as she spoke. “-while we keep Lotor’s forces busy on the outside. We’ve got some stellar pilots that will be in charge and provide enough support until we can find the Red Paladin and get out.”

“We cannot possibly repay you for what you’re about to do,” Allura thanked the Olkari weakly. Ryner smiled bracingly.

“No need,” she said. “It would be an honor to dish back a little of what the Galra have dealt us. I have a fleet en-route. They should reach there and the operation will commence tomorrow.”

Shiro had bitten a hole into his lip with his teeth. “And if you don’t get him back?”

Ryner pursed her lips. “Then the original plan will have to work. I know what the Galra are capable of. He can’t last there much longer.”

“I know,” Shiro’s prosthetic creaked.

Ryner gave them all a gentle smile. “I will see to it that we get Keith back. But it will be up to you to repair what the Galra have undoubtedly broken. There’s only so much that your pods can heal.”

A shudder chased its way up Lance’s spine. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t scared to find out what kind of wounds inflicted on Keith wouldn’t just be healed by a few days in the pod.

 

Haggar trailed her fingers up the newly crafted arm in her hands. She hummed, pleased with the design. It was practical, perfectly tailored to the Red Paladin’s - Keith’s - measurements, and best of all, _purple._ Something about the colored accents on the elbow, knuckles, and shoulder was so deliciously _mocking_ that it made Haggar almost giddy.

She would show Keith he could not escape his own heritage. He could not escape _her._

“High Priestess,” a druid had drifted soundlessly through the open door. She turned her head to acknowledge them, clutching the prosthetic in her hand just a tad bit tighter. “The Red Paladin is ready.”

Haggar’s lips curled into a smirk. “Wonderful. Come. Let us show Keith what happens if one tries to escape my grasp.”

 

When a horde of druids entered the room intent on subduing him, Keith thought briefly about fighting back. But really, what was he to do? There was a bullet in his shoulder and his arm had been torn to shreds. Most of all, he didn’t have any real power. He was just some orphan who had - by some horrible chain of coincidences - found his way into space.

Perhaps he deserved this punishment. The loss of his arm in exchange for the lives he’d taken for no reason during his escape attempt. His pride for thinking he was strong. For believing so strongly in the fire that burned inside of him. He was nothing more than his foster parents had always said.

Just a troublemaking kid who could never do anything _right._

He went without a fight. Blood from the horrible bandages the Galra had made that he’d bled through marked their trail as they headed down the hallway. Keith didn’t know where they were going. He half-hoped that whatever room they walked into, he wouldn't walk back out.

What would they do to his body if he died, though? Throw it out the airlock? Toss it on a planet and leave it there to rot?

Keith knew that was just wishful thinking. More than likely, they’d leave it for Haggar to play around with until she’d learned all there was to know about half-breeds. Even in death, Keith couldn’t escape the Galra.

_What a grim thought._

The operation table they rolled Keith onto hurt like hell. For a few brief painful seconds, he had all of his weight on his injured arm and shoulder and when he screamed, the druids all whispered amongst themselves excitedly. Keith squeezed his eyes shut, wondering what was going to happen this time. _A new room, new tortures,_ he supposed.

A druid moved forward. "Let us begin. Someone summon the High Priestess." 

 _Summon Haggar? What for?_ Keith thought dully.

Then, he remembered. He remembered Laynek's words that had reduced him to terrified sobs for hours. 

_“Haggar wants that arm for herself.”_

Oh. Oh _no._

This was it. This was when he-

Oh god _now?_

Keith wanted to throw up. He had been fed the bare minimum and his stomach was rumbling with pain and hunger, but it was nothing compared to the ice his heart was now pumping.

His arm.

They were going _to take his fucking arm._

“No…” He croaked, throat parched and feeling as though speaking was ripping glass through his vocal chords. “No, _no-_ ”

“Silence,” one of the druids hissed. They stalked forward, putting their hand on Keith’s uninjured arm - the arm they were about to _take_ \- and tilting their mask towards his face. “This is your punishment, Prisoner.” They inclined their head to another druid, who stepped soundlessly out of the room.

Keith choked, fear clogging his throat as the druids began to pin him down. Keith thrashed and struggled, hating the feeling of tight bonds keeping him pinned. The magnetic cuffs restricting movement in the other room was bearable. This was a whole _new_ level of torture.

A thick strip of fabric was laid across his torso and Keith let out a high keen of fear as he suddenly found he could not squirm. He was pinned in place, heavy restraints and ropes keeping his arms pinned. They burned into Keith’s newly-opened wound on his arm and tears sprung to his eyes.

They were going to _take his arm-_

A druid began to move their fingers in an intricate dance above his head, directly in his vision. Keith jerked his head away, collar scraping against the metal with a high screeching noise. Panic began to close in on his throat. There was too much touch, too much weight on his stomach, too many people around him. He craved space. He _needed_ space.

Keith choked on his next gasp. The collar around his neck had suddenly activated, sending a brief sharp bolt of electricity through his system. Not enough to hurt, but enough to surprise him. In the instant he stopped moving, hands descended upon him. One druid, then a second and a third were all forcing him to look up at the fingers dancing above him.

Keith choked on his sob. There were too many people crowding around him still, his bonds were too tight, rubbing into his skin, into his _wounds._ It was all too much, too much, _too much-_

The finger’s dance became a blur as the druid’s magic began to work. Keith realized with a horrible feeling he was passing out against his will. He clung onto his consciousness desperately, knowing what would come if he succumbed. He’d lose his arm, they’d turn him into Shiro, a man so haunted by his own demons he could hardly sleep at night. 

“Please…” Keith gasped through the panicked haze. The edges of his vision were beginning to go dark. “ _Please_...don’t do this…” 

The druids only regarded him with their cold, empty masks. 

And then the darkness swallowed Keith whole.

 

There was a horrifying suction noise as Haggar attached the prosthetic. An arm - pale and bleeding where Haggar had cut it off - lay on a tray. A perfect specimen. Unblemished, unharmed. She would have much fun learning all she could about half-breeds from it. 

There were a few clicks and whirs and the prosthetic tensed on the table then fell still, hand opening limply. Haggar smiled cruelly, running her hand delicately up Keith’s new arm. She examined his face, which almost seemed _peaceful,_ caught in the throes of sleep. She wondered how long it would last. He would undoubtedly awake soon to the realization that despite his best efforts, she had still prevailed. She’d killed two birds with one stone: breaking Keith even further and getting a wonderful new way to research his people.

Next on the agenda was to penetrate his weakened defenses and glean all he knew from his mind. Knowing the intel directly from a Paladin of Voltron was invaluable. It could turn the tide of the war and give the Galra the control they’d been chasing for ten thousand years. Keith would have no strange defenses to protect him this time. 

The druids unfastened the heavy bonds and ropes. They’d run angry red marks into his skin, the weight of them surely leaving bruises. The skin around his collar was beginning to purple, the deep bruises from Laynek’s earlier attempt on Keith’s life coloring and intercepting with where the collar lay upon his flesh. His arm was a wash of ripped, jagged skin, flaps falling into the wound as blood - both new and dried - stained his skin. His shoulder had been covered in white bandages turned dark red. 

He was absolutely  _ beautiful.  _

Bruised, bleeding, and  _ broken.  _ How the Red Paladin of Voltron should have  _ always  _ been. 

A perfect specimen. With a will as strong as her Champion’s, a fire entirely his own, and a drive like the Galra. And now, she would have a piece of him with her  _ forever.  _

How poetic. 

Haggar waved her hand. A silent order to take Keith back to his cell. To let him lay there until he awoke, when Haggar and Laynek would use whatever means necessary to get the information they needed from his mind. 

And afterward? 

Haggar smirked. 

She would love to see Keith’s fighting spirit in the arena. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah it's so short!! I'm sorry! But I didn't want to continue the chapter because of what's happening next. It just felt fitting to end it here. 
> 
> Yes! I took Keith's arm! Poor kid has been through hell and back and now I've taken his only working arm and turned it into metal. But trust me, I have plans for this thing. And don't worry, it's involving his recovery! <3 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Your continued support and feedback is really what keeps me going, besides torturing poor Keith. In all, this thing is probably going to be around 30 chapters or so, with lots of recovery, where Keith will get the love and support he needs more than anything right now. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! Leave a comment/kudos if you did. I want to know what you thought of this chapter! Your favorite moment, theories, maybe even suggestions! The idea to take Keith's arm was an idea of a reader that I really liked and decided to use. So who knows? Maybe I'll use it! 
> 
> See you next Saturday! <3


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith sinks deeper into the depths of depravity. The rebels commence their assault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't beta-read, so all mistakes are on me. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Matthew Holt was considering the pros and cons of a haircut.

He sat in the cockpit of a tiny rebel ship, his feet thrown up the on the dashboard of his control station. The radars were active, scanning for movement anywhere near them or their tiny fleet, while Matt pinched his bangs between his fingers and glared at the strands of hair he'd trapped.

He knew the mission he was on was important. It was _more_ than important. Voltron themselves had asked the rebels _specifically_ to go on this mission in search of their Red Paladin. But Matt just couldn’t help himself. He’d go stir crazy in this tiny cockpit with nothing to do, so he had to turn to methods _other_ than worrying about the upcoming mission to keep himself occupied.

“Y’know,” he spoke finally, rubbing strands of hair between his forefinger and thumb. It was greasy and dry, a disgusting combination underneath his skin. He’d been so busy the past few days he hadn’t had the time to worry about personal hygiene, and he doubted the others did too. Luckily, months in captivity had taught Matt to ignore particularly horrible smells. “If I cut it, it won’t get in the way during fights. But, once I do, I’ll lose all the progress I made trying to grow it out.”

Mira - a tall fox-like creature with large padded arms and ears that twitched as often as a cat’s - rolled her eyes. “Matthew, please. Keep an eye on the radar.”

Matt flickered his gaze to it. Empty. No threats nearby. Just the way it had been when he’d checked it an hour ago.

“I _am,”_ he said, dragging out the word. “And there’s _nothing._ I would tell you if something popped up. How much further?” He was reminding himself of a younger version of his little sister. Katie would whine and ask that god-forsaken _are we there yet?_ every single family road trip. It had made them significantly less fun.

“About five and a half vargas,” Uua, the pilot sitting lazily at the controls, said. He looked nearly as bored as Matt felt, with long pointed ears and a tall spindly body that was almost unhealthily skinny. He reminded Matt of a mixture of the Bii Boh Biis and humans - if they came in a very violent shade of purple.

Matthew groaned.

“Take this seriously,” Mira said. “The Paladins of Voltron are counting on us to get their Red Paladin back.” She paused. “Who knows what they’re doing to him.”

Matt didn’t want to think about that. He’d experienced enough during his time as a Galran captive, enough to earn him nightmares and an eternal feeling like he was being suffocated from his time in the ‘White Rooms.’ They were named for being the only room aboard a Galra vessel that wasn’t purple, and were a near-blinding white instead. It was a new form of torture, where the Galrans slowly sucked the air out of the room until the occupants lay on the ground, gasping and begging for mercy.

Matt chased the memory away with a shiver. He sincerely hoped that the Red Paladin - whoever he was - had not been subjected to the White Rooms.

Uua shivered. A former Galran captive himself, he was possibly reliving horrors of his own. “Yeah. But we can’t go any faster. They’ll notice us otherwise. We’re supposed to be the infiltrators, remember? The plan goes to shit if we get caught.”

Matt threw his head back. He was all too aware of Ryner’s plan. Two teams - one entering through the top of the Galran ship and one through the bottom - would infiltrate the Galran ship while the rest of the rebel troops kept Prince Lotor and whoever else was on that ship occupied. The two stealth teams had two missions: take down the ship through the inside by whatever means necessary and find the Red Paladin, whatever it took.

Matt didn’t want to think about what would happen if he failed.

So he didn’t.

“I could cut it,” he said aloud. “But then I couldn’t put it into a ponytail anymore. And honestly, do we even _have_ scissors?”

Mira and Uua groaned.

 

Keith’s whole body ached.

He twitched pitifully on the cold ground, his hands chained in front of him once more. His shoulder throbbed from where he lay on it, the bullet shifting in his skin and digging deeper and _deeper_ into his flesh. He let out a weak whimper of pain and shifted onto his other shoulder.

Then...something felt... _off._

His entire right arm felt strangely disconnected. Like he’d popped his entire arm out of its socket and it had fallen off.

In a haze of confusion, Keith remembered. He remembered the Druid’s dancing fingers as it brought him under, desperate screaming tearing his throat raw as he begged and pleaded for his arm-

_His arm._

Keith all but flailed back into reality. He peeled his tired eyes open, ignoring the moan of hunger from his stomach and instead fixed his gaze firmly on his right arm.

Or...what _used_ to be his right arm.

In its place was a silver prosthetic, purple outlining the elbow and knuckles. Possibly the shoulder, too, but Keith couldn’t see it that well. It was nearly identical to Shiro’s in design, and it made Keith’s stomach roll just looking at it. 

The violet hues were almost  _mocking._ A test, to show that Keith truly could not escape his past, his  _heritage._ Who he was was a part of him now, for better or for worse. 

A choking sensation made Keith throw his head back as he moved desperately into a corner. He dry heaved, the sour taste of bile staining the back of his throat. But his stomach had nothing to offer. Instead, he coughed wetly until a disgusting green liquid now stained the corners of his cell. He lay there, shivering, with all the weight on his metal arm.

Keith’s next gasp of air hurt to take in. His chest burned with what felt like fire, eyes wet but he hadn’t shed any tears. His body ached, eyes tired from the jarring awakening.

The Galra had done it. They’d delivered on their fateful, frightening promise. They’d taken his arm. The last piece of his dignity, gone.

Keith wanted to cry at the realization that crashed over him. He was _never_ getting out here. He was doomed to spend the rest of eternity as a Galran prisoner. His team wasn’t coming. He’d failed to escape and paid the price.

He was _never getting out._

Keith’s stomach rolled again as he tried not to look at the prosthetic. He had a violent, savage urge to take the metal with his other hand and _pull_ , pull until it was off and he wasn’t tortured by the mere thought of it being _there._

Was this how Shiro felt?

Keith suddenly had a newfound respect for the demons Shiro faced daily. Keith had been subjected to just one of the main ones, and he was already sure he wasn’t going to make it. Just another testament to how weak he truly was.

He had no idea how long he was out for. For all he knew it could have been just hours, or maybe weeks. Was this going to be his life? In a perpetual state of agony and the blissful realm of unconsciousness? Keith greatly preferred being asleep rather than awake. Maybe it was possible to remain that way forever, if he were given the chance. After all…

_He was never getting out of here._

Keith slid his eyes shut. The metal arm pressed against the wall, cold and unfeeling. Unfamiliar and yet a part of him now. There was no point in fighting now. Not anymore. Not when the Galra had stripped Keith bare of all he used to be and then they had taken that too. The fire that he’d once prided himself in was gone. A dim ember, and even that was being stomped into nothing but warm coals. Keith wasn’t even sure the next time Haggar inevitably came to him for information, he’d be able to hold her off. He wanted nothing more than to protect his friends - his _family_ \- but he just didn’t have the strength anymore.

Keith’s eyes pricked with warm tears.

 _I’m sorry, guys,_ he thought with a choking sensation as his cold metal arm scraped across the floor of his cell. _I failed._

And that was the grimmest thought of all.

 

“That it?”

Matt whistled lowly as Uua directed their small fleet behind a shattered moon in the Nayak System. In front of them lay an enormous Galran battleship, rivaling the size of the usual fleet ships, but not quite the size of Central Command, either. It would definitely have a lot more than a _few_ prison cells.

“Yup,” Uua’s grip was tight on the controls of the ship. “What now?”

“We wait for the go-ahead from Ryner,” said Mira, watching the communications. Her posture was tense, white fur sticking on end. Matt was reminded of a cat that had done the very same while he and Katie attempted to help it. “Be prepared for what we might see in there.”

“Noted,” Matthew said under his breath. His grip was almost painfully tight on the back of Uua’s chair. He surveyed the ship, grateful he’d taken the time to observe the blueprints to commit them to a memory card on his wrist computer. Otherwise, they’d be wandering around the ship in circles for the entire mission and end up getting themselves killed.

There was a beep from the communications console Mira was hovering over. She tensed and anticipation swelled in Matt’s gut. She turned around, but no words were needed. The rebel ship that had followed behind them was also clearly getting ready.

Matt reached above him to the maze of switches and buttons and flicked one. “Cloaking engaged,” he said. “Let’s do this.”

Uua pushed hard on the controls. The tiny little pod swerved from behind the moon and shot towards the Galran ship at breakneck speeds. The rest of the rebel forces were starting to move in well, shots colliding hard with the hull. It lurched, sending a soundless groan through the void of space.

The comms at Uua’s right crackled to life. “First shots exchanged. Rescue Teams, move in.”

“Already on it,” Uua quipped. Their tiny little ship had started the docking procedure on the underside of the ship, and they were working their way through the thick Galran steel with one of their blasters-turned-metal-carver.

“Be careful,” the comms warned. “All hands will be on deck for this assault, including the Galrans. You have one tiny window of opportunity to find the Red Paladin.”

“We know,” Matt almost grumbled, pulling on the ridiculous-looking space suit and jamming a helmet over his head. The long strands of his hair were suddenly plastered to his forehead and he started reconsidering that haircut again.

Mira shot him a look. “We won’t fail.”

With that, Uua severed the communications. This close to the Galran ship, there was a high probability of their comms being intercepted. There had to be as little contact with the outside teams as possible, which made their mission all the riskier.

Mira fit a helmet over her furry head, making a face. “Let’s go.”

They got into the Galran ship from their own, standing on top and gently prying away the metal they’d been cutting away. It was long, tedious work, but they had to be careful or risk the entire mission.

The Paladins of Voltron were counting on them.

Matt hoisted himself into the ship once the large circular metal piece was floating off, easily mistaken for battle debris. The rebel ships were now engaged in fierce battle with Galra pods flown by sentries, which meant everyone in this ship had to be engaged with trying to shoot the rebels down. Matt helped Mira inside, who in turn tried to help Uua, but the alien ended up being tall enough to pull himself into the ship without much effort.

“Okay, Matt,” Uua said as softly as he dared. “Where to?”

Matt pulled up a holographic screen and worked fast. The screen set off a signal, and any signal could be traced back to them if they weren’t careful. He used his finger to find their location and made a mental map of where to go if they wanted to reach the cells.

“Left,” he said at last, waving away the screen. “There’s also some sort of blast furnace that way, too. We can rig it to explode.” A fanged grin stole across Uua’s face. Rigging things to explode was his specialty, and Matt was sincerely glad that he was on their side rather than the Galrans.

 _Jokes on them for enslaving Uua’s entire race,_ Matt thought.

“And from the blast furnace?” Mira pressed.

“A right, then up a few flights of stairs,” said Matt. “There’s gonna be patrols, even if they’re in the middle of battle. They’d be idiots to not have patrols if they’ve got a prisoner like the Red Paladin of fucking _Voltron_ aboard.”

“Let’s hurry,” Uua said, rubbing his hands together eagerly. He was clearly very much looking forward to getting to blow something up today.

The trio stole across the hallway. They tried to keep their footsteps as quiet as possible as they darted through the hallways. Matt held his breath, trying not to think about what the Red Paladin would look like when they found him. Was he just going to a bloody mess on the ground? A lump of gore, barely recognizable to his teammates?

He felt his stomach turn into knots at the mere thought of it.

“Is that the blast furnace?” He heard Mira ask. Matt lifted his head. In front of them was a large structures with levers and pulleys, all labeled in the strange letters Matt had started to associate with Galrans. There were huge gaps in between metal strips, heat radiating from the inside.

“It must regulate the ship temperature,” said Matt.

“Not just that,” Uua was standing at a control board off to the side. “Looks like it regulates the temperature of a few other things. C’mere.”

Matt moved to stand next to Uua and followed to where he was pointing. It looked to be a security camera of a room lined wall-to-wall with strange vials and potions. There was what appeared to be a large examination table in the middle of the room, a tray atop a steel prep table covered in all manners of strange tools. The examination table was bloodstained.

“It’s got temperature regulators, see?” Uua said. “From what I can make out, the blast furnace doesn’t just regulate the ship...it changes the temperature of that table.”

“Oh _god,”_ Mira said, choking on her words.

“They can make that table as hot or cold as they want to,” Matt realized. Uua nodded in grim agreement. “We have to shut it down.”

“Way ahead of you,” Uua reached into his bag he’d slung over his back before they’d left the ship. He opened it, filled with a mess of wires. He got to work, quickly rigging up three bombs from the materials he had on hand. He handed one to both Mira and Matt and took his own.

“What do we do with these?” Mira asked. Matt turned the bomb over in his hand as Uua slung his bag back over his shoulder. There was some kind of suction-cup material on the back, probably allowing it to stick to any surface.

“Stick it here,” said Uua, pressing the suction cup of his bomb onto the thin strips of metal of the blast furnace. “I’ve made a controller that’ll rig these things to explode. That’ll probably set off a chain reaction and blow up the whole ship. It’ll look _awesome.”_

Matt pressed the bomb to the metal, head pulsating through his space suit gloves. He pulled his hand away quickly so he couldn’t get burned.

“Good work, Uua,” Mira said, sounding impressed. “Let’s go find the Red Paladin now.”

Matt turned to the flight of stairs on their right. “Yeah. Before we run out of time.”

 

To say Laynek was furious would have been an understatement.

He was absolutely _livid._

There was a clear reasoning behind the attack of the rebels. The Red Paladin - their  _ prisoner  _ \- had gotten word out to a nearby sympathetic group to his plight. 

He wanted to rip into the Red Paladin’s flesh, tear it away until he was nothing more than a crimson lump on the ground. To take revenge for the lives he’d taken during his attempted escape. To show him that he was nothing more than a  _ prisoner  _ for them to toy with. 

But first, he had to teach the foolish rebels the true might of the Galran Empire. They were not to be trifled with, not when it was victory or death hanging in the balance. 

And Laynek was more than happy to show them  _ death.  _

He grabbed the back of a sentry’s head climbing into the cockpit of a fighter pod. It crushed under his grip, its lights flickering before going dim. He threw it to the ground with a clatter and got into the cockpit himself. It roared to life as purple lights flooded the small room, illuminating the unrelenting  _ murder  _ in his eyes. 

He would show the rebels what death  _ truly  _ meant. 

Matt hacked open another door.

It hissed open before them, a cloud of dust rising along with its opening. This cell was just as bare and empty as the last. Fragments of alien bones littered the floor, clearly old just from how brittle they looked. 

“Empty,” he sighed. “Honestly. Why make all of these cells and not have a  _ single  _ one occupied?”

“This ship is probably only used for really important prisoners,” Mira reasoned. “A Paladin of Voltron would definitely be one.” 

“We need to hurry,” Uua warned. “It won’t be long before they find the bombs on their blast furnace and figure out we’re in here.” 

“Any word from the other team?” Matt asked. 

Uua checked his communicator, only to be used when either team had found the Red Paladin or during emergencies. It lay dormant in his hand. Uua shook his head. 

“No.” 

“Then let’s assume they’re having the same luck we are,” Mira said, sounding frustrated. She bared her fangs, glancing down the hallway. 

Matt sighed. They’d had to have opened at least fifty cells by now, each one just as empty as the last. At this rate, they’d be discovered and the Red Paladin would be left in the hands of the Galrans forever. 

They could  _ not  _ let that happen. 

“Let’s keep looking,” he advised, moving onto the next door. He hacked it open, already far too used to the Galran’s algorithm, and it opened with a quiet hiss. 

Empty. 

Mira sighed frustratedly. 

 

Laynek swerved hard on his controls, in hot pursuit of a meddlesome rebel ship. He shot sporadically, fangs gritted in a mixture of concentration and fury. 

The rebel ship dodged with almost too much skill. Laynek imagined its pilot: a cocky, young rebel who believed they could stand up to the pure  _ might  _ of the Galra Empire just because they were  _ gifted in dodging.  _

Laynek would prove them wrong.

He fired once more. His next shot tore apart one of the ship’s boosters. It began losing altitude, plummeting to one of the nearby planets. Laynek gave chase, intending to blow the ship into nothing more than debris, until something caught his eye. 

A ship, its cloaking effect just wearing off. It was smaller than the others and docked underneath the main fleetship. 

Laynek nearly broke one of the ship’s control in a new bout of unbridled  _ rage.  _

The rebels had gotten in. They’d infiltrated the ship. The battle outside that everyone on the ship was so occupied with dealing out was merely a pretext. A cover, for the  _ real  _ mission that was taking place. 

A half-assed  _ rescue mission.  _

Laynek bared his fangs. He knew he should alert his superiors. Lotor and Haggar, specifically, would be  _ very  _ interested to know of the rebels currently sneaking their way through the ships corridors, but Laynek did not care. 

He would be the one to kill the rebels in the ship. To tear their bodies apart bit by bit and throw them out into space to freeze and decay for the rest of time. 

Laynek turned course and rocketed back for the main fleetship. 

 

“This is the last cell block,” Matt warned. “If the Red Paladin isn’t in one of these cells, he’s not on this ship at all.” 

“That’ll be disappointing,” Uua muttered, stepping out of one of the cells he’d just opened. He was wrinkling his nose from the putrid scent that was wafting out from inside. 

“We  _ have  _ to find him,” Mira insisted. She was shifting on her feet, looking agitated. Matt wouldn’t be surprised if she sprang forty feet into the air like a cat if she was startled. “We can’t let down the Paladins.” 

Matt was beginning to think disappointing the Voltron Paladins was starting to be their only option. 

He hacked open the next door. It hissed open, but the cloud of dust and squeaky hinges Matt had grown used to was absent this time. The door must have been used recently. He lifted his head from the handprint scanner he’d just hacked into and peeked inside. 

He nearly threw up. 

A body, crumpled and wearing only ragged flight suit pants was curled in a ball on the ground, their back facing them. Even still, Matt could see the bruises. The puckered, pink scars that pulled across his back. The bandages he’d bled through, and the arm that clearly been torn to near shreds. 

The  _ metal prosthetic  _ attached to his shoulder. 

“Oh god,” he heard himself say. “That’s him.” 

Raven hair was in a tangled mess, greasy and matted with dried blood. A collar was fitted around his neck, yellow and green bruises merging with reddened flesh. The body stirred at Matt’s voice, a quiet whimper escaping him, but the Red Paladin grew still.

Matt realized with a jolt that he  _ recognized  _ the mullet that he was currently staring at. He’d seen it attached to a Garrison cadet at Shiro’s side back on Earth. Hell, he’d helped Shiro practically  _ adopt  _ the kid from the clusterfuck of failures that was the foster system. 

“...Keith?” Matt whispered. 

No. No, it  _ couldn’t  _ be. Keith couldn’t have gotten himself mixed up in all of this.

But Keith’s connection, his  _ bond  _ to Shiro was strong. He would have found his way up into space, especially after the disaster that was the Kerberos Mission. It was just in Keith’s nature. He wouldn’t have accepted whatever bullshit the Garrison had spouted as the reasoning for himself, his father, and Shiro going missing. 

Keith would find out the  _ truth.  _

And the truth had landed him a spot as a Paladin of Voltron and as a Galran prisoner. 

It had lost him his  _ right fucking arm. _

Matt felt dizzy. “Oh god, I _know_ him. He’s a kid from Earth. How the hell…”

Mira looked sick as she stepped forward. “I’ll carry him. Tell the others we found him.” 

Uua nodded, lifting his communicator when it crackled to life with a strangled scream.

“U-Uua-” the owner of the communicator, a cyan alien Matt had never learned the name of, was in clear pain. “Abandon sh-ship. Get out now. While y-you still can…” 

Uua’s eyebrows furrowed and he exchanged a confused glance with Matt and Mira. “Why? What’s wrong?” 

“We-we’ve been compromised,” the communicator crackled with static. “S-Someone saw one of our ships. Just...please, just get out! Before he finds you.” 

“Before who finds us?” Uua asked. “And we found the Red Paladin, we can get-” 

“Oh god,” pure fear had flooded the cyan alien’s voice. “Oh god, I think he saw me.” 

“Who saw you?” Uua said, now clearly panicked. “What’s going on?!” 

“Oh god, Uua, just get out, get out,  _ now  _ while you still have time!” The cyan alien was panting now. “Just  _ run!” _

There was a loud deep roar that Matt could hear from where they were standing probably miles away from the other infiltration team. The cyan alien screamed once. The communicator crackled and went silent. 

“Grab the Red Paladin,” Uua ordered, absolutely terrified. “We need to move. Now.” 

Mira moved first, hurrying into the room. There was no time to disengage the bonds tying Keith's wrists together, or to pull off the collar. All she could do was gather him in her arms, cushioning the wounds in his shoulder and arm against her fur. He whimpered once, tired amethyst eyes blinking open for the briefest of seconds before flickering closed once more. 

Matt tried to swallow down the panic threatening to choke him. “Hurry.” 

“I am,” Mira hissed, trying to adjust Keith to be comfortable in her cushy embrace. “He’s  _ squirming.”  _

“No time to let him squirm,” Uua snapped. “The other team is dead. We have to  _ go.” _

Mira turned around and the trio fled, with Keith still writhing in Mira’s arms. 

__

Laynek crushed the skull of the alien beneath his fist. Its cyan face melted into pain and he screamed once more before going limp and still. Dark fuschia blood seeped between Laynek’s fingers as he dropped the corpse on the ground. The communicator he’d been attempting to talk into was crushed beneath Laynek’s heavy boots. 

He looked down at it, thin wires now severed at the seams. The rebel had been trying to tell someone else to run. To get out while they still could.

Clearly, Laynek still had another group of intruders to deal with. 

Uua fumbled with his remote control as they ran, his breaths coming out in heaving gasps. They’d decided that going out topside was safest and closest, as their ship would take too long to get back to. Not only was Keith losing an alarming amount of blood, but they were being hunted. By who or what, Matt wasn’t sure he wanted to find out. 

“The bomb’s engaged,” Uua panted. “We have five dobashes.” 

“We should be almost there,” Matt was watching the map as they ran. There was no point in trying to cloak their signal anymore, not when they’d been discovered.

“Hide!” Mira hissed as tromping footsteps began echoing down the corridor. Matt took a sharp left and hacked into the handprint scanner as fast as he could. The door hissed open and Matt, Uua, and Mira all nearly tumbled over each other to get inside before it closed again. Keith gurgled weakly in Mira’s arms, his head tucked up in the crook of his arm. There was no way they could try to fight whoever was out there with Keith in this state. 

Matt took a moment to observe the room. It appeared to be some kind of storage room, with huge boxes and tables filled with blasters and dull Galran swords. 

But there was something... _ odd  _ there. 

A red and white... _ something  _ sitting on a box. It made two curves, a handle bridging the gap between them. Without really knowing why, Matt picked it up and pocketed it. It was unlike anything he’d ever seen the Galra have, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to leave it in their hands. 

Mira’s ear twitched. “They’re gone. Let’s move.”

They took off down the hallway once again and Uua checked the time on his bomb.

“Four dobashes and thirty ticks,” he said. “We have to move faster.” 

“Just down this hallway,” Matt promised as they nearly flung themselves up the stairs. “There should be an entryway up to the roof. The ship should be docked there.” 

“But what about the Paladin?” Mira asked, looking down. Matt glanced down at him. Keith looked so  _ small  _ and weak. So unlike the headstrong kid he’d known back in his Garrison days, before everything went to shit. “He can’t breathe out in space.” 

“I’ll give him my helmet,” Matt said without thinking. He knew there was no air in space, but also knew that if he held his breath long enough and squinted his eyes, he would be okay. Winded, very cold, but okay. 

“Matthew-” Mira tried to protest. 

“I can live,” Matt said. “He can’t. Not in the state he’s in. He’ll try to breathe and think he can’t and then he’ll be breathing in space. Which, need I remind you, is nothing. I’ll be fine.” 

“As much as I hate to admit it,” Uua said. “He has a point.” 

Matt sniffed, looking at his map again. “Behind the door up here. It shut because all the air had been suctioned out, but I can hack into it and get us out.” 

Matt looked up as Uua and Mira both skidded to a stop. He felt his stomach drop into his shoes. 

Because standing in front of them was a Galran. 

He was larger than most, clearly a commander from the symbol on the chestplate of his armor. He leered at them, his claws covered in fuchsia blood. 

“An ingenious plan,” he said. “A pity you won’t live long enough to execute it.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :))))) 
> 
> Sorry not sorry? 
> 
> That damn Laynek, always getting in the way. You didn't really think they'd get Keith out without a fight, did you? And who better to execute that fight with than the person that's been causing the most heartache from Keith since the beginning. 
> 
> Okay, honestly though? I made Uua and Mira specifically for this chapter like a week ago and I've gotten so inexplicably attached to them, you don't even know-
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!! I'm absolutely floored by the support this story has gotten, and it makes me happy you all are enjoying it so much. Leave a comment if you want, I'd love to hear your thoughts on the chapter! Anything works, from theories of what's going to happen, to your favorite part in the chapter, I want to know. 
> 
> I'll see you all next Saturday! <3
> 
> Want to stay updated on changes in the update schedule/new VLD fics? Come dance on into my [tumblr](https://chocolatechip-master.tumblr.com/) and say hi!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cold vacuum of space is unforgiving. Unluckily for the rebels, so is Laynek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't beta-read, so all mistakes are on me. 
> 
> Enjoy!

The first thing Matt realized about the Galran was that Keith seemed to be _afraid_ of him.

Even in his semi-conscious state, Keith flinched away from him, eyebrows furrowing. Mira looked down at the frail body in her arms and her mother-hen instincts clearly began kicking in. She clutched him tighter to her chest, glaring at the Galran.

Matt opened his mouth to speak - a taunt, a demand, he wasn’t sure - but Uua beat him to it. He squared his spindly shoulders and took a step forward, moving one long arm to fling in front of Matt and Mira protectively.

“Big talk from a Galran,” he taunted. “Think you’re going to stop us?”

The Galran tilted his head. “I could break your body in half with one of my hands.”

“I’d like to see you try.” Uua shot back without skipping a beat.

Part of Matt wanted to tell Uua to shut up. To stop irritating the already furious Galran in front of him. The other part of Matt was working out a half-baked plan as he surveyed the area around him.

They only had a few minutes before the bomb on the blast furnace went off.

They had to be off the ship before that happened.

Matt observed the Galran. He was twice their height and probably triple their body mass. Taking him down would _not_ be easy. Especially since they were going into the fight with an injured Paladin, Matt’s three-foot metal staff, and Uua’s on the fly weapons.

 _Think._ Matt thought desperately.

Keith whimpered pathetically in Mira’s arms. The Galran’s gaze shot to him almost instantly and Mira curled her arms even tighter around his broken body. The metal prosthetic dug into her arm.

“Do you even know who you hold there?” The Galran asked, a sneer curling over his fangs.

“Yes,” Mira said. “A part of our last hope to save the universe from _you.”_

The Galran was not impressed. “What you hold is a _prisoner._ A broken, _worthless_ boy. One that may have once been a Paladin, and now he is nothing. Just a half breed with no  _purpose."_

Keith, still half-conscious and covered in blood, shrank at the words.

“Oh shut up,” Uua snapped, peeking at his wristwatch.

Three minutes, fifty-eight seconds.

Matt swallowed the rising panic. With the Galran blocking the access point, hacking the door open was out of the question. He wouldn’t be able to get to it without going through a solid wall of muscle, so he had to turn to other alternatives.

But _what?_

The Galran’s blood-covered hands were twitching slightly. It was only a matter of seconds now until he pounced, tearing all three of them - and possibly Keith too - to shreds. At this rate the only option would be to hold out until the bomb on the blast furnace went off-

Matt froze.

The _bomb._

Bombs. Uua.

He turned a wild gaze to Uua and made exaggerated eye contact, flicking his gaze between Uua’s and the knapsack on Uua’s back.

 _I can buy you enough time,_ Matt hoped Uua understood. _Just make a bomb and blast us the hell out._

Uua nodded once. Short and stiff, but it was enough. Matt took a step forward and reached behind him to unclick his staff from his belt. It extended to its full length by Matt’s side and Matt’s grip around it tightened. He knew the incoming fight was going to hurt like _hell_ but he couldn’t let anything happen to Uua, Mira, or Keith.

The Galran’s gaze snapped to Matt and something _unnerving_ grew in the pit of his yellow eyes. His lips twitched, tongue reaching out to lick his lips. Matt suppressed a shudder.

“Trying to protect your friends?” The Galran sneered. “How disgustingly _brave.”_

Matt ignored him, still thinking fast. In the split second he had before Uua’s bomb would go off and suck them all into space, he had to get over to Keith and shove his helmet over his head so he wouldn’t suffocate. It would be close, but Matt was sure he’d be able to do it.

In preparation, Matt pulled the helmet off of his head and handed it Mira. She made a face but accepted it.

The Galran sneered. “What is your name, foolish boy?”

“Fuck you,” Matt answered steadily, hoping his voice sounded stronger than he felt. The Galran’s face morphed into an ugly sneer. Behind Matt, Uua started digging in his knapsack.

“I am Laynek,” said the Galran. “And I will be the last thing that you ever see.”

For a moment, Matt felt his heart skip a beat. The threat - while overdone and cliche in a normal situation - was so utterly _terrifying_ coming from a seven-foot alien made of muscle.

Instead of letting his confidence waver, Matt set his thoughts to his friends behind him. Uua, desperately tangling wires together, Mira who clutched a broken Keith to her chest.

_Keith._

Another victim of a senseless war. A boy who had given everything and lost everything in return.

Matt suddenly felt inexplicably _angry._

“I’d like to see you _try.”_ He snarled.

Laynek was upon him in an instant. Matt had time to lift his staff to parry the large claw that came in to gouge his side, sending vibrations all up and down Matt’s arms from the strength of the blow. He took an unsteady step backward to keep his balance. Fuschia blood smeared all up and down the metal.

Matt changed his center of gravity and pushed back, teeth gritted. Balancing on one leg he delivered a powerful kick to Laynek’s chest. The Galran did little more than release his grip on Matt’s staff, but it was enough. Matt used all his strength to push his hands to the bottom half of his staff and hit Laynek across the face with a horrifying crack.

Laynek stumbled back. Purple blood oozed from his nose. His yellow eyes gleamed with rage and bloodlust. Matt squared his stance, the bottom of his staff clanging against the floor as Matt slammed it down, standing in front of his friends with his shoulders drawn.

“You’re not going to hurt them,” he snarled. “You won’t hurt _him.”_

Keith stirred in Mira’s arms.

Laynek roared. He charged forward with all the grace of a full-grown rhinoceros and slammed into Matt. He met the Galran’s charge head-on with his staff held level with his chest and wrestled with the strong grip. Unfortunately, Matt had misjudged Laynek’s footwork and found himself lifted off the ground, his weapon in Laynek’s hand.

Matt clung into his staff as Laynek whirled him around. The wind whistled in his ears as Laynek released him. Matt had time to curse all his life decisions before he slammed against the wall. The wind was knocked out of him with his strangled gasp, something in his hip popping with the contact. Matt hit the ground with a dull thud.

Laynek threw aside Matt’s staff. It fell elsewhere with a loud clang, out of sight. Matt blinked furiously, trying to clear his blurry vision. A hulking purple mass was now approaching him, fuschia covering its hands.

 _Get up!_ Matt told himself furiously, but his body seemed to be refusing any commands he gave it. His heart rate quickened.

“You are a _fool,”_ snarled Laynek. “A fool who will _die.”_

Matt blinked again. His vision cleared in time to see the fuschia-covered claw come down for his chest. Matt rolled, scrambling away. The claw missed, digging deep into Matt’s calf instead.

Matt let out a loud scream as Laynek tore the flesh away, embedding his claws into the floor. Dark red blood was now staining Matt’s pants as he dragged himself away. Crimson smeared across the floor, following Matt as he looked around desperately for his staff.

It was there, in the corner next to the door. Matt had to ignore the agony coursing through his leg as he forced himself to get up. Laynek charged once more at Matt and he tucked and rolled, his injury pulsing with the movement as he somersaulted and pulled up in a crouch. Laynek barreled by as Matt kept moving, ducking down and grabbing his staff. Blood smeared across the floor.

With a well-practiced strike, Matt snapped the staff into Laynek’s face as he approached. The heavy metal struck Laynek’s neck, sending him stumbling a few steps sideways. Matt pulled the staff close to him once more as Laynek grunted, holding the impact point with one blood-covered hand.

Matt glanced at Uua. A half-made bomb was in one of his hands, wires in the other.

His wristwatch read: one dobash, twenty-seven ticks.

_Fuck._

Laynek’s body slammed into Matt’s. Blood from his leg splattered into the wall as Matt collided with it. He let out a pained cry, wrestling with the weight that was now resting wholly on his staff. The metal creaked as Laynek increased pressure on the weapon. It began bending at the middle.

“ _Die,”_ snarled Laynek.

The staff snapped in half.

Matt’s head smashed backward as the momentum of the breakage caused it to hit him directly in the nose. He _felt_ his nose snap, the bones cleave themselves in two, as the jagged edges of the staff halves gouged themselves into his face.

Matt screamed.

Several long lines, blood seeping from them, now marred his face. Blood dripped off his chin as his broken nose _pulsed_ and was now clearly hanging in a way it wasn’t supposed to.

Matt dropped the two halves of the staff. Blood-covered and broken, they rolled away. Laynek grabbed Matt by the neck and _squeezed,_ decidedly cutting off Matt’s air supply. He choked, his arms flailing at Laynek’s thick hand and tried to pry him off. Laynek’s grip only tightened.

Matt had time to wonder if Laynek was trying to suffocate him or pop his head off at the neck, when a weak whisper that seemed so much louder than it actually was echoed across his fading consciousness.

“ _No…”_

Laynek’s head snapped towards the source. Matt did the same, one eye lidded shut.

Mira was looking down at Keith in surprise. His mangled arm was reaching out to Matt. Blood matted in his hairline and amethyst eyes were tired but _awake_ and _aware._

Laynek seethed.

He dropped Matt onto the ground. Matt keeled over, coughing and hacking, trying desperately to get oxygen back into his lungs. Blood dripped from his cheeks and face onto the floor, speckling the purple ground red.

Laynek marched towards Mira and Keith, murder in his eyes. Mira held Keith tighter to his chest, literally _hissing_ at Laynek as her fur stood on end.

“Don’t _touch_ him-”

Laynek batted her away like a fly. Keith fell from her arms and hit the ground with a thud. He whimpered, the prosthetic arm landing first. Mira let out a scream of protective rage as Laynek grabbed Keith by the head and slammed it into the ground.

“You foolish, _pathetic_ Paladin!” He snarled. “You don’t know the _trouble_ you’ve caused here today-”

“Paladin,” Keith repeated, cutting across Laynek. He looked at Matt, face marred by the bloody lines in his cheeks. He tilted his head, recognition sparking in his eyes, and clearly seemed to gather what was going on. A smirk pulled at his lips. A ghost of his former one but still _there._ “I like the sound of that.”

Laynek roared with rage. Mira did the same, flinging her body into Laynek and toppling him off of Keith. The two rolled, Mira spitting and hissing as she slashed at Laynek with her claws.

Laynek pinned her to the floor with two enormous hands, drawing blue blood from her skin. Keith, now unconscious once more, slumped on the ground, blood pooling around him. Matt, clutching his nose and slathering blood all over his hands, reached for the more jagged half of his broken staff.

Matt grasped it, stumbling to his feet. Mira let out a scream as Laynek began to dig deep wounds into her neck.

Matt came up from behind Laynek, eyeing the gap in his armor at the nape of his neck. He gripped the piece of the staff in his hand and made eye contact with Mira.

A smirk spread across Mira’s face, blue blood staining her fangs. Laynek followed her gaze and made to turn, but he was too late.

With a loud guttural roar that made his own ears ring, Matt threw his arms downward. He poured everything from the battle into the one swing - the fear, the pain, the _anger_ \- and dug the staff into Laynek’s neck.

Purple blood sprayed Matt’s face and hands. Laynek _bellowed_ , loud and filled with agony, and released Mira. He slumped over sideways, yellow eyes filling with anger before they fell shut. Matt stepped backward, breathing heavily as he looked at the half of the staff sticking out of Laynek’s neck.

Uua paused in his bomb-making, looking over at Laynek’s downed body and then down at his wristwatch. His eyes widened.

“Oh _shit.”_

A second later, there was a vicious explosion. Followed by another, and another, and another.

The bomb on the blast furnace had gone off.

"Fuck!" Matt turned to Uua, his eyes widening. “Uua-”

Uua was already on top of it. He reeled his arm back and threw the bomb he’d just made as hard as he could. Matt made a break for Keith, shoving the helmet over his raven locks and dug his head into the younger boy’s chest, sucking in a deep breath through his lungs.

The bomb exploded.

The doors burst open and Matt felt a sucking sensation as he flew off of his feet. He kept his eyes tightly shut as he was pulled out into space, tumbling over himself. The coldness of space stung his wounds, blood freezing on his face. He held onto Keith the entire time, refusing to let him go.

Matt vaguely registered arms wrapping around him and pulling him up as he risked opening his eyes.

Mira was carrying him, blue blood freezing on her neck and turning into crystals. She was using her jetpack to shoot them towards the rebel ship high above them. Below, the Galra ship began to explode, soundlessly turning the hull into little more than debris.

Matt’s lungs burned as they kept going. He used all his strength to clutch onto Keith as he realized just how much he _hurt._ His leg pulsed like it had a heartbeat, and the jagged lines on his face and broken nose were absolute _agony._

He choked, convulsing in Mira’s arms as he fought the urge to suck in a breath. His throat closed, vision going dark at the edges. He forced himself to stay awake, holding Keith to his chest. He couldn’t let Keith go. He couldn’t, he _couldn’t._

Uua opened the cargo hold of the ship by pressing his hand to the scanner. He shot inside, offering one long arm to Mira. She grasped it, holding Matt by his wrist. Matt squeezed his eyes shut, his mind going fuzzy with the lack of oxygen, and then there was rush of air and a thud as gravity returned.

He sucked in a deep breath, coughing loudly as he finally allowed himself to release Keith. He trembled with cold, adrenaline finally leaving his body as he let out a low keen. He never thought he’d be so grateful for air.

He looked beside him, his ears ringing from the sudden influx of noise from the silence of space.

Keith lay next to him, his hair spread around him in Matt’s helmet like a messy halo. His breathing was steady and sure.

He was alive. He was _safe._

Matt rolled over, continuing to breathing air into his lungs. He felt like laughing, crying, and screaming all at the same time. He was in absolute agony, but the _relief_ that washed over him at the prospect that despite all the odds being stacked against them, they had _won._

They’d gotten Keith back.

He let out a strangled laugh despite himself, warm tears pricking at his eyes. “We did it,” he said hoarsely.

“We did,” Uua agreed.

Mira turned to Matt, fury blazing in her eyes. “What were you thinking?! You could have died!”

“I don’t know,” Matt shrugged, glancing at Keith. The steady rise of and fall of his chest was reward enough for him. “But...I don’t regret it in the slightest.”

Uua helped Matt stand. The world spun around him as he was hit with a massive wave of vertigo, but it passed soon enough. He leaned against the wall as Mira lifted Keith into her arms again to tuck him into a makeshift bed the other team had apparently pre-prepared for Keith in the cargo bay.

“I’ll go contact Ryner and Voltron,” Uua said. “Let’s tell them the good news.”

 

Never in his life had Shiro been more anxious.

The rebel operation to save Keith should have commenced today. Whether they succeeded or failed was all in the hands of fate now.

Shiro absolutely _hated_ it.

He hated the fact that they had to turn to the rebels for help. It wasn’t as though he was ungrateful for the help (on the contrary he’d never been more grateful) but he felt as though he should have been the one out there risking his life to save Keith. He had a responsibility to, as Keith’s surrogate older brother and best friend. As the _leader._

Lance sat beside Shiro, bouncing his leg nervously. Pidge paced in circles and Allura checked for transmissions obsessively with Coran. Hunk was fidgeting with a series of wires, putting them together and then taking them apart again.

The tension in the room was unbearable. No one spoke. No one offered words of comfort other than tender looks and small smiles.

Shiro held his breath, waiting, _waiting._

Waiting for something to _happen._

The console began beeping. Allura gasped, her hands flying to it immediately. Coran brought up the image and a screen appeared over the endless expanse of stars they’d been looking at for four hours. Shiro stood, Lance beside him as the team all drew together.

An unfamiliar purple alien with long spindly limbs sat in the cockpit of a tiny rebel ship. He looked a little worse for wear as Ryner appeared on the screen as well, looking just as anxious as the rest of Team Voltron.

“Uua,” Ryner spoke. “How’d it go?”

The alien (apparently named Uua) glanced behind him. He seemed anxious and tired, like he’d seen a million things he wasn’t supposed to. He turned back to the screen, his shoulders slumping. With relief or defeat, Shiro wasn’t sure.

He held his breath.

And then...Uua _smiled._

His lips quirked upward into a sincere grin as he surveyed the Paladins through the transmission. Shiro felt his breath catch in his throat.

“The mission was a success,” Uua said. “We have him.”

Lance let out a relieved cheer, throwing his arms around Pidge and Hunk. The two of them squeezed back, shoulders slumping.

“We’re on our way back to Planet Zaaf as we speak,” Uua said. “We’ll get someone to treat his wounds and meet Team Voltron there.”

“Thank you so much,” Allura had lost all her picture of regality. She had her hand over her heart, kaleidoscope eyes swimming with tears. “I... _we_ cannot thank you enough for what you have done for us.”

“Just free the universe, okay?” Uua gave them an easygoing grin.

“After this?” Lance was grinning. “We’ll save the universe and then some.”

Uua’s expression softened. 

“Good work, Uua,” Ryner said. “This mission could not have been possible without you or your brave teammates.”

Uua frowned. “We lost some, though.”

“What?”

“The other team. They were ambushed by a Galran,” Uua explained. “One of them managed to warn us about him, so we were prepared when he found us too. We managed to fight him off. The other team...wasn’t so lucky. They died in action.” He hung his head, looking mournful. Ryner bit her lip.

“We’ll...be sure to have a proper memorial for them,” she said. “Their service was invaluable.”

Uua lowered his head in respect. “I’ll look forward to meeting Team Voltron on Zaaf.”

“Of course,” Shiro’s voice trembled. “We want to thank you and your team personally.” The others murmured in agreement. 

Uua nodded and gave them one last tender smile. The transmission flickered away, and Allura turned to Coran.

“Set a course for Planet Zaaf,” she said. “Let’s go bring Keith home.”

Shiro fell to his knees, relief half strangling him half lifting the weight from his shoulders. He felt hot tears prickling at his eyes as the rest of the team crowded around him, hugging each other with all the strength they could manage.

Shiro would be lying if he said he didn’t cry right then and there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah! Finally!! They've gotten Keith out! 
> 
> He's not quite home yet, and he absolutely has a shit ton of demons to work through, but he's out. And cuddles at an ending? God yes, count me in. Shiro deserves to cry after all the tension he's gone through in the last few days. 
> 
> Okay, storytime. I was going to kill Mira off this chapter! Laynek was going to either strangle her or just straight up stab her, and then Matt would have gotten angrier, but I'm actually happy with the way it ended up turning out. Matt needed someone to help him to the ship, and I'm glad it was Mama Mira (yes I'm calling her that now, you can't stop me). 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! I can't emphasize how much your continued support and love means to me. I love reading all of your little comments and reactions, and it makes me smile with every single one I get. You all mean so much to met and I'm so glad you're reading and enjoying the nonsense that I put out. 
> 
> Drop a comment/kudos if you enjoyed the chapter. I'll see you guys next Saturday! <3


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, he's going home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't beta-read, so all mistakes are on me

“How far out are we from Zaaf?” Mira asked.

She sat in the cargo hold with Matt, a pile of antiseptics and bandages in her arms. Matt was wincing, gingerly touching his broken nose. Mira had just snapped the bone back into place and somehow the agony of having it put back was _worse_ than the initial break. She leaned forward, eyes narrowed as she cleaned the gagged cuts zigzagging through his face.

Even several hours out from the wreckage of the Galra ship, the cuts were still bleeding.

At the helm, Uua inclined his head so they could hear him better. “Four vargas. That enough time?”

Mira glanced over in the corner. Matt followed her gaze to Keith, nestled in a pile of blankets with his injured arm lying on top of his stomach. It was the only thing other than his head that wasn’t buried under a layer of cloth. They’d taken off the manacles first thing, as Matt had refused to let Keith lay with his hands chained together. He’d dripped blood all over his keyboard keys as he hacked the cuffs off, but it had been worth it.

Mira nodded. “Yeah.”

Matt moved his head away with a quiet hiss of pain as Mira wiped some sort of cream across one of the cuts. He knew it was supposed to help, to act as some sort of shield to stop the bleeding, but _damn_ did it sting.

“Stop moving,” Mira snapped, narrowing her eyes as she started bandaging up the wounds.

“It hurts!”

“I know, but it’ll hurt more if I mess up!”

Matt - none too eager to have one of Mira’s claws add to the lines gouged into his face - did his best not to squirm after that.

When she was done, Mira straightened up, proud of her handiwork. Matt didn’t want to look in the mirror (he was afraid that the person looking back would be a bandage-covered mummy) and followed Mira to go kneel by Keith’s impromptu bedside. Mira opened the first aid kit and lifted Keith’s mangled hand into her own.

She paused, then, a bottle of painkillers in her hand and looking quite anxious.

“Mira?” Matt asked.

Mira turned to him. “Laynek...the Galran, he called the Paladin a...half-breed, right?”

Matt tried to think back. Most of the battle on that ship was a blur. A rush of painful adrenaline and fear. But yes - in the far reaches of his mind - he was quite certain that Laynek _had_ called Keith a half-breed.

“I...think so,” he furrowed his eyebrows. “Is...that a problem?”

“It might be,” Mira spoke carefully. Something new was in her voice now. Trepidation, perhaps? “Our antibiotics might not...work on him.”

Matt’s heart skipped a fearful beat. “What? Why?”

“We have medicine here for every single alien imaginable,” Mira dug through the first aid kit. “Albi, Human, Zaafian, even Galran...but I don’t think we have any for half-human half-Galran hybrids.”

“So...if we apply the medicine, there's a chance it won’t work?” Matt guessed. Mira nodded. Matt swore. “Come on! We just got him out, now we have to deal with _this?”_

Mira winced, turning to look at Keith. His face was slumped, dark bags like bruises under his eyelids and dried blood caked into his hairline. She sighed, hunching in on herself.

“Okay, so let me tick off all the boxes,” Matt said furiously. “We’ve saved Keith, but now we find out he’s half-human, half-Galran, meaning our antiseptics might not even work. Which also means, we’ll have to return him to Voltron in _this_ state and let _them_ deal with the wounds. How is that fair?”

“It’s not,” Mira sighed. “But...we have to do what we can. Clean up the blood, wrap the bandages, get the bullet out of his shoulder…” She paused, eyes stopping at his neck. “Get the collar off…”

Matt’s stomach rolled at the prospect of any of that. The thought that this - any of this - had happened to Keith made him sick. The kid had been nothing but curious at the Garrison. Shy and stuck to Shiro like glue, but he’d still been eager to learn all he could about the far reaches of space. Keith had lamented the fact that Shiro was going on the Kerberos Mission not entirely because Shiro was leaving, but because he wasn’t the one piloting.

What had Keith done to deserve this?

Matt was willing to bet there was nothing.

His whole life, Keith had been handed the short end of the stick. He’d been dealt a losing hand and played it the best he could.

But god, how did that land him _here?_

“I’m going to start with the bullet,” Mira said, fishing a pair of pliers out of the kit. “We’ll need all hands on deck. Uua-” She turned to the cockpit, raising her voice so the other alien could hear. “We’ll need you. He might wake up and thrash and...and the bullet could go deeper. I don’t think I need to explain why that’d be bad.”

There was a beep, the telltale sounds of the autopilot being engaged and Uua joined them by Keith’s bedside.

Matt looked over Keith’s slumbering form. He could only hope that the poor kid remained asleep for the duration of their less-than-conventional surgery.

Matt situated himself by Keith’s head, one hand on his chest, the other on his shoulder with the prosthetic. He shuddered, the feeling of cold metal meeting flesh just under the palm of his hand. It wasn’t a feeling he would miss.

Opposite Matt, Uua sat down carefully by Keith’s legs, putting both hands lightly on top of the blankets. Not enough pressure to keep Keith from moving in his sleep, but ready to hold him down if need be.

Mira took a deep breath and squeezed the tweezers in her hand. “Let’s do this.”

And she dipped them into the bullet hole.

 

The first sensation Keith was really aware of was _pain._

It was something familiar to him now. A part of him.

So, when the image of his father rubbing his stubble on his face in the way he absolutely _hated_ faded to darkness, Keith tried to imagine what horrors would await him when he awoke.

But there was something _there._ Something new, a break in the cycle of pain and terror he’d been trapped in for the past...God knew how long.

_“Paladin...I like the sound of that.”_

His own voice. Quiet, meek, but still rang with his old determination.

There had been a rescue attempt, right? He’d seen a familiar face - one he couldn’t place in his haze of pain - but understood what had been going on. Laynek was bashing his head against the ground, screaming in rage and then...something had tackled Laynek off of him. He watched the familiar face stab Laynek in the neck and after that…

_Darkness._

Laynek was surely dead then, wasn’t he? Keith was safe. He was going to wake up and see Shiro and Lance and Pidge and everyone standing over his bedside.

 _But why did everything_ hurt _so much?_

Had he not escaped? Was he still their prisoner? Had the rescue attempt been nothing but a dream? An illusion created by Haggar to give him more spirit and then bring him into the waking world long enough to preen him of all information?

Keith peeled his tired eyes open. For a moment, nothing came in focus. There were murmurs around him - or shouts of alarm, he couldn’t tell - and then he saw a flash of color out of the corner of his vision.

It was _purple._

Immediately, dread pooled into Keith’s stomach. He let out a low keen, trying to twist his body away.

_Purple._

_Purple meant Galra._

_No, no, no…_

Purple meant pain. It always did. Purple meant Laynek, meant Haggar, meant the irises of Lotor’s eyes-

He thrashed, the pain growing in intensity. There was an order, loud and right next to his ear.

“Keep him still!”

No, Keith did _not_ want to stay still. He wanted to _move._ He didn’t want the pain that he _knew_ was coming.

And come it did. It flooded him, tearing a strangled noise from his dry throat. He arched his back as he became aware of a pressure holding down one of his shoulders and both of his legs. He was reminded then of a Druid’s dancing fingers and all the weights of the millions of hands pressing against him.

Keith squeezed his eyes shut and he let out a second cry. Louder, and more coherent this time. “ _No!”_

The noise continued regardless. The pressure at his shoulder tightened, nails digging into both Keith’s skin and scraping against the metal of his prosthetic arm. He let out a hoarse sob. He should have _known._ The Galrans didn’t stop. Not when you explicitly told them to, not when you begged, and especially not when you said ‘no’.

 _No_ was just an invitation for them to _continue_.

There was an awful squelching sound, like a sickening _pop_ right next to his ear. Something came out of his shoulder, something wet splattering across his cheek and face. _Blood,_ he realized. He was amazed he still had any left to give.

Then, as soon as whatever it was came out, the pressure was gone. But Keith knew it would return. It _always_ did. But after five solid minutes of the only pain being the pulsing of his mangled arm and shoulder, he risked opening his eyes. He saw purple again, but the shape was clearer now. More defined. Tall as a Galran, but smaller. Limbs much thinner and less imposing.

Keith turned his eyes to the trio that were all watching him expectantly. One was the purple spindly creature that had caused Keith such distress in the first place. The other was almost cat-like with white fur that was tinged blue around their mouth and neck. The third…

It was the same familiar face from earlier.

The human, bandages all across their face and tangled auburn hair that was matted with dried blood. They had amber eyes, warm and large - so familiar and yet so different at the same time.

Keith dared to hope.

“Pidge?” He croaked.

The human’s eyes widened. Not in recognition, but surprise.

“Pidge?” He repeated, almost incredulously. “You...you know Pidge?”

Keith’s heart sank. It wasn’t Pidge. But at the very least...he’d been saved. He understood that much. The Galra - and more importantly Lotor and Haggar - were not here.

Laynek was dead.

He was grateful for that much.

“Who...who are you…?” He found himself asking.

The human stepped forward. “We’re the coalition rebels. Voltron reached out to us and asked us to save you. You...you’re Keith, right?”

Keith nodded hesitantly. He wasn’t sure how they’d gotten his name. Had the team told them?

The human’s face broke into a smile. “I knew it! Keith, it’s me. It’s Matt, from the Garrison. Remember? Shiro and I were best friends.”

It took Keith a moment, but he did end up remembering. After all, it was hard to forget the eccentric, nerdy kid who always broke into Shiro’s dorm room.

The same kid’s whose face had been plastered all over the news, ‘pilot error’ scrolling across the bottom just a few years later.

“M-Matt...Matt Holt?” Keith asked carefully.

Matt’s expression lit up. “Yes! It’s me! I lived!”

It took a second for the words to sink in.

Matt was _alive._ The whole reason why Keith had gotten captured in the first place was to help Pidge find the same boy who was standing in front of him looking like a mummy who’d forgotten most of his bandages.

Did Matt even know about Pidge? That she’d spent every waking hour not occupied with her duties to Voltron searching for him? Keith had to tell him. Tell him how she’d grown, how she was the pilot of the Green Lion.

“Matt…” Speaking felt like there were thousands of stakes being driven through his throat, but Matt had to know. “Pidge...Pidge, she…”

Matt’s expression softened at the mention of his sister. “Later, Keith. Right now, we’re going to bandage all of your wounds and get you to a nearby planet. The rest of your team is on the way.”

The cat-alien stepped forward. She held a roll of bandages in one fluffy hand, while the purple alien that had terrified Keith watched him carefully. Following Keith’s gaze, Matt smiled reassuringly.

“These are my teammates,” he said. “The furry one is Mira. The purple one is Uua.”

“Nice to meet you,” Mira’s voice reminded Keith of cool water. Soothing and calm. It was the same tone one would use on a scared kitten. “Keef, right?” She completely butchered the pronunciation of his name, but Keith decided to let it slide in favor of nodding. Correcting her would take energy - and vocal chords - that he did not have right now.

“He and I knew each other on Earth,” Matt explained. “We went to the same space school.”

“I _still_ can’t believe that space exploration was _optional_ on your planet,” the purple alien - Uua, Keith reminded himself - snorted. “And that not many people decide to do it.”

Matt scowled. “Hey, not everyone can be lucky and be born on a planet where literally everyone goes off to be smart bomb-making astro-explorers.”

Uua grinned. His teeth were sharp. “We are very good at making bombs.”

“Yeah, I’m aware.”

“Touche, my friend. Touche.”

“That is...not how you use that word.”

Uua, deciding not to respond, turned to Keith. “If you need anything, I’ll be in the cockpit. We’ll be arriving on Planet Zaaf in about two and a half vargas. Your team should be there in the next quintant.”

Keith nodded mutely. Mira leaned over him and he flinched as she began wrapping his arm in bandages. He was purposefully avoiding looking down at the damage done to him. He was sure he’d send himself into another self-induced panic attack if he even glimpsed the wounds. He shuddered to think of what would happen if he looked at the prosthetic arm now weighing heavy on his shoulder.

“We can’t give you any painkillers or antiseptics because of your lineage,” Mira murmured as she worked. “So this is all we can do for now. I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault…” Keith tried not to feel the twisting in his stomach. Now even complete _strangers_ knew he was half-Galra. Was it just put up on the universe’s biggest billboard for everyone to see?

Keith tried to imagine it. Flashy colors and big words all outlining the same enormous headline.

Somehow, that was more humiliating than the fact that now every single Galran in the universe now knew hat he was.

And now… with his arm, it was even more so. The purple accents staring at him, forever taunting him, reminding him that there was no escape from what he was. Keith had not been branded with hot metal, granted, but he had been branded in a different way. One that made shame color his cheeks since there was no escape from who he was. From _what_ he was.

How _weak_ he truly was. In a way, he owed the Galra. They helped him realize what he truly was. He’d been too high off his own fumes to realize that he was nothing more than a tool to be broken. Used over and over again until he shattering into a million pieces and then he’d be put back together and used again. It was how his whole life had been. Why would it end now?

A quiet clatter of machinery caught Keith’s attention. Matt was now close - _far_ too close - to his face and hooking up a few wires to the collar that was pressing on his throat, restricting his breathing. He looked up at Matt, a bit afraid of what the older boy was planning. Matt gave Keith a bracing smile.

“Don’t worry,” he had the same tone Shiro used whenever he was reassuring Keith. Did all big brothers just _magically_ have the same voice when trying to reassure someone younger than them? “Just gonna hack the collar off. It’ll feel better once it’s gone.”

Keith nodded once. Beside him, Mira wrapped a fifth layer of bandages around the gunshot wound in his shoulder. A bullet was lying on the ground next to a pair of bloody tweezers. It didn’t take much for Keith to realize what had happened, and how badly he’d misread the situation when he woke up.

Matt started typing. The cargo hold fell silent aside from the whirr of the ship and the clacking of keys. Mira tied off the bandages and pulled away with a smile, putting them aside.

“There,” she said. “Those should do until we can find some proper medical supplies for you.”

Keith nodded, opening his mouth to thank her, when something quite different - but still familiar - shot through him. He let out a loud cry, throwing his head backward into the wall. Stars burst to life as sudden pain coursed through him. The collar was buzzing - humming, even - sending sharp bursts of electricity through his body.

Keith remembered then, being blinded, the cold table and the unforgiving electricity.

The squelching as Laynek turned the knife in his gut.

“Turn it off!” Mira screamed at Matt while Uua shouted an alarmed ‘what’s going on out there?!’ from the cockpit.

Keith could hardly focus, his hands scrabbling against the collar for purchase. His metal fingers slid useless across the material while his other hand made it slippery with the fresh blood Mira hadn’t gotten around to wiping away yet. His throat felt raw and he tasted blood. Had he bitten his tongue?

Then, it was over.

There was a sizzling sound followed by a pop and with a dull plop, the collar was off. It fell into the depths of the blankets Keith was wrapped in, leaving him dizzy and disoriented. He jerked violently, sucking in deep breaths that were unhindered by the collar now.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Matt whispered. “I’m sorry, Keith, I had _no_ idea that was gonna happen, I swear.”

Keith didn’t reply. Instead, he lifted his real hand to touch his throat, mottled with the greens and purples of his bruises. He wasn’t sure what to feel. He felt broken, dirtied by the Galrans hands. While he knew the collar coming off was supposed to be symbolic, a way of showing he didn’t belong to the Galrans, the memories were still there. Lotor had still shown him what he truly was.

_Weak._

He couldn’t even escape on his own. He’d killed other Galrans and still, he’d not been able to escape. He had to rely on others to do for him.

How disgustingly _weak._

“Keef?” Mira said tentatively, butchering his name again. He turned to her and sucked in another huge breath, unhindered now by the collar.

“Can…” Speaking was harder than ever. He swallowed to make it better, but blood was not a substitute for water. “Can I have some water?”

Matt grinned, a little bit nervously. “Of course buddy. I’ll be right back.”

He left the room, leaving Mira and Keith alone. Keith avoided her gaze, staring stonily at the wall. He didn’t want to look down, for fear of what he’d see, but he didn’t want to look at her. If he did, she’d realize what a mess he was. No one should have the right to be a Voltron Paladin if they couldn’t even get themselves out of a situation they had put themselves into.

_No one._

Keith had to remind himself not to cry as he sat there, the ship engines humming around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gaaah Keith noooo! 
> 
> There's only so much Matt and his team can do, though. The real recovery will fall to the team, and their ways that they can all help him pull through to the next day. 
> 
> Anyways, let's talk last week's update. Or, rather, the lack thereof. 
> 
> This week has been fucking crazy. Friday night, I went to sleep early with the chapter half-written, and a terrible pain in my throat. I woke up nauseous, with an awful headache, and a fever. I knew that if I tried finishing the chapter, it'd be mediocre at best and probably wouldn't make any sort of sense. So, I decided to skip the update for this week, posting an update on my Tumblr about it, which I hope most of you saw. 
> 
> THEN IT GOT WORSE
> 
> Tuesday night, a few hours before Halloween, I get this horrible ache in my right ear. I'm talking someone taking a pair of pliers, grabbing your eardrum, and twisting it while increasing the pressure on your eardrum kind of bad. I went to urgent care to see what could be done, and found out I had a pretty serious ear infection and had to take meds for it. 
> 
> I'm doing better now, thank god, but still, this week has been something else. It's been such a long time since I've gotten that sick and then it just gets worse the longer the week goes on. 
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed the chapter! All of your continued support and love means the absolute universe to me <3
> 
> See you all next Saturday!


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boy the Paladins lost is not the same one that they get back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't beta-read, so all mistakes are on me. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Keith wished he could say he remembered landing on Zaaf. He wished he could have seen the worry of the alien doctors as they all surrounded him, observing his wounds and muttering treatments to each other.

But he didn't. 

All he saw was the expressions of the other rebels.

Sadness, horror, _disgust._

It seemed everyone had been informed that a Voltron Paladin was now in their care. They swarmed around the ship, some of them catching a glimpse of him. Those were the expressions Keith hated seeing most as he was wheeled pathetically out of the pod on the alien version of a gurney. Watching their awed expressions at seeing a real-life Voltron Paladin melt into confusion and horror. He tried not to look at them, but…

They were all he could see.

When they entered a building covered in shrubs and vines to obscure it from outside surveillance, Uua and Mira went to debrief, leaving Matt and Keith together. Matt followed him to the room he’d be staying in until the other Paladins got there and the doctors left, murmuring amongst themselves of possible painkillers they could give Keith. Matt and his team had mercifully kept Keith’s heritage a secret, knowing not all were so lenient when it came to the Galra. That included half-breeds trying to save the universe.

The silence that stretched between them was nearly unbearable. Keith wasn’t lying down like he was instructed to. Rather, he was sitting up, tense with his injured arm tucked up against his stomach. His shoulders were drawn up and every time he moved his prosthetic arm he flinched.

It didn’t take a genius to guess what had happened.

Matt didn’t know the full story - or the extent to which Keith had been tortured - but he knew it had been enough to take Keith’s arm from him. Enough to reduce the boy with a determination that burned as bright as the sun down to a dull ember. A shell of who he once was.

Meanwhile, Keith sat, trying to ignore the sensation of the plush bed underneath him. It was far too reminiscent of an earlier time, of laying on a similar soft material with his sight and hearing taken from him. Forced into one uncomfortable position after the next, copper tickling his throat.

Keith blinked back tears.

“You…” Matt cleared his throat. “You should rest.”

Keith glanced at him. He didn’t _want_ to rest. He knew that as soon as he tried, the haunting yellow irises of Haggar’s eyes would be imprinted on the back of his eyelids. He’d see Laynek tearing his arm to shreds, Lotor looming over him, half leaning on a dulled sword.

Keith shook his head.

Matt looked concerned. “I get it if you’re not tired, but you should at least try. Someone will be around in a bit to give you some food and I’ll make sure they don’t try to give you any medicine because that might just make things worse...” He trailed off. Keith wasn’t looking at him. He had his gaze fixed dully on the bed-frame across from him, pointedly avoiding looking down. He clearly wasn't listening, lost in his own thoughts. His own world. 

Keith made to move his prosthetic hand to place it over his throbbing wounds but thought better of it and decided to endure the pain instead. He wished he were more like Shiro. As soon as he had woken up, he’d confronted with the most obvious demon from his time as a Galra prisoner head on. He’d flexed the prosthetic, tested it out, even used it as a weapon near daily. Keith didn’t have that kind of strength. As usual, he was proving himself to being nothing more than a _failure_.

 _Just like he always had been._  

“What...are you thinking about?” Matt asked carefully. Keith looked at him and Matt was surprised at just how _tired_ Keith looked. It wasn’t just because of the dark bags like bruises under his eyes. The spark that had been so prevalent in his amethyst eyes was gone, snuffed out like a light. They were now glazed over and dull - like he was forever living in the past.

“Why…” Keith spoke and he had to remind himself that _yes, this was him speaking._

It sounded nothing like him. The voice that echoed from his own lips was so meek, raspy and just not _him._ He used to have a stronger voice. He wasn’t loud, per-say, but he wasn’t quiet either. He got people to listen just by opening his mouth.

And now?

He just sounded like a child who had done wrong and was trying to face up to it. It wasn’t a good voice for him.

“Keith?” Matt pressed gently, trying to get him to continue. Keith turned to face the other boy, his eyes glossy like he was on the verge of tears.

“Why...Why me?” Keith's voice broke.

Matt felt an overwhelming pity for the boy in front of him. The boy who had done no wrong and still had gotten the short end of the stick.

Without thinking he took several steps forward and wrapped Keith in his arms, pushing Keith's face into his shoulder so he didn’t have to look at anything anymore.

“I don’t know,” he said quietly. The words felt like a had been driven knife through his gut. He wished he knew. He wished he had the answer to who decided to make Keith suffer so. That way he could show them the same pain Keith was forced to endure his whole life. “I don’t know,” Matt repeated, sounding choked.

Keith’s shoulders shook underneath him.

 

Planet Zaaf was very reminiscent of the jungles back on Earth. Breathable - albeit thick and humid - air and huge trees wrapped in vines and enormous leaves Lance could probably make a bed with.

There was no need to wear his Paladin armor. They’d be here for a day at most to pick up Keith, debrief with the members of the rescue mission, and then they’d be gone.

Lance looked down at his side, where Pidge stood with her arms crossed. She looked nervous, her face paler than usual, and her sweater sleeves bundled in her fists. She glanced up at Lance who - without thinking - put his hand on her shoulder and pulled her close to him.

“He’ll be okay,” Lance murmured. He knew how empty the words were. They had no idea what state Keith was in. For all they knew, his face was mangled so badly that he was hardly recognizable anymore. While the thought made Lance’s stomach do somersaults, Pidge smiled gratefully up at him.

The two of them turned their attention to the greeting party in front of them. It was made up of aliens that Lance had never seen before, but granted he’d only seen a very small part of the universe thus far. The one in the lead was talking meaningless details to Allura, welcoming the planet, how it was _such_ an honor to have the Voltron Paladins here, blah, blah, blah…

The information Lance - and everyone else - were really pining for had nothing to do with the formalities the alien was currently spouting.

Shiro was the first to speak up, cutting across the alien’s speech. “Where’s Keith?”

The alien paused, suddenly looking uncomfortable. The look did not bode well in Lance’s gut. “I-I...assume you’re talking about the Red Paladin that we retrieved yesterday, correct?”

“Yes,” Shiro’s arms were wound tightly across his chest. At Lance’s left, Hunk was messing with his fingernails, a habit he’d picked up to help deal with his anxiety. Allura’s smile was tight, while Coran was obsessively pruning his mustache. Lance’s grip tightened slightly on Pidge’s shoulder, keeping her close as she trembled slightly under him.

“The Red Paladin…” the alien cleared her throat. “He is...resting, at present. One of the members of the rescue mission is with him, keeping watch and comforting him." She paused. "His sleep has been...fitful at best.”

“Oh, _Dios,”_ Lance whispered.

“Take us to him,” Shiro all but demanded.

“O-Of course!” The alien said. “But...I must warn you of the state he’s in.”

“State?” Coran repeated. His voice was pinched and scared.

“We cannot heal his injuries here due to...circumstances I’ve not been informed of,” the alien said. “And he is terrified of anything moving too close to him. He is…”

“I don’t care,” Shiro said firmly. “Take us to him.”

The alien looked weary, but didn’t protest. She motioned for the group to follow her to the vine-covered building in front of them.

People stopped and stared as they passed. Whispers were exchanged, some rebels poking their heads out of fighter jets and out of the windows of the building to get a glimpse of them. Lance kept his hand on Pidge’s shoulder as they approached the front door.

“This is where I leave you,” the lead alien said as they paused a few feet away from the entrance. “Someone from the operation will guide you to the Red Paladin’s room.” She gave them all a pensive smile and turned to go observe the loading of a dozen crates onto a ship’s cargo hold. The team all exchanged uneasy glances and kept walking toward the doors.

They opened before the team got there. Someone was now approaching them, with bandages all across his face and warm amber eyes just like Pidge’s. His hair was also wild and tangled, auburn-colored and pulled back into a ponytail.

Beside Lance, Pidge’s breath hitched.

“Matt?” She whispered as Shiro stopped walking, his mouth gaping open.

The stranger paused before them, eyeing down the Paladins one by one, but he all but _froze_ when he saw Shiro and Pidge. His eyes went wide.

“Shiro?” He croaked, gaze shifting between them. It lingered on the littlest Paladin under Lance’s hand. “...Pidge?”

Pidge didn’t give him so much as a warning before she flung herself forward. She wrapped her arms tightly around the stranger’s middle, burying her face in his chest. It took Lance only a second to realize what was going on.

“Matt Holt?” He said in disbelief. Hunk’s jaw dropped.

Matt didn’t answer. Instead, he let out an incredulous laugh, hugging Pidge fiercely.

“Matt,” Shiro breathed, looking surprised. “You…” He paused, searching for the words. “What happened to your _face?”_ He said instead. Matt laughed.

“Long story,” he said. “You’ll hear during the debriefing.” He paused, looking down at the little green bundle currently trying to merge with him. “Holy shit, _Pidge._ Keith he...he tried to tell me something about you but I...I never thought it was _this.”_

Pidge mumbled something into her brother’s chest.

“You got out of the prison,” Shiro said. “How…?”

“These guys,” Matt waved his hand around him at the rebels. “They broke me out.” He grinned at both Shiro and Pidge, looking proud. “Voltron Paladins, huh? I knew you two were gonna end up doing something great.”

Pidge hugged Matt tighter, if that was even possible.

Shiro let out a low chuckle, the first he’d done in eight days. “Thanks, Matt.”

Matt smiled and turned his attention to the rest of the team. Allura and Coran (they’d likely gathered what was going on but still looked confused beyond reason) both gave him polite smiles while Lance and Hunk couldn’t seem to make their muscles work long enough to close their mouths.

“Who are they?” Matt asked.

“These two are Allura and Coran of Planet Altea,” Shiro explained. “They’re like our guides out here. Allura helped us find the Lions and Coran keeps everything in the Castle in perfect shape. And-”

Lance couldn’t help himself. “I’m Lance! Paladin of the Blue Lion!”

Hunk, following suit, managed to pull himself together. “A-And I’m Hunk! I fly the Yellow Lion!”

“You two...were also Garrison cadets, right?” Matt furrowed his eyebrows.

“Yup,” Lance tried not to sound too proud of himself. “Although, maybe not anymore,” he added as an afterthought. “We kind-of broke into a Garrison quarantine and I’m pretty sure that counts as some kind of immediate expulsion.”

“What?” Matt’s jaw dropped.

“We can explain everything later,” Shiro said. His expression had hardened now. “Where’s Keith?”

Matt suddenly looked very perturbed. “Inside. I can take you to him...but you’re not gonna like what you’ll see.”

“The alien over there told us the same thing,” Lance said. “Is…” he swallowed. “Is he really in that bad of shape?”

Matt nodded once. Apprehension dug a hole in Lance’s gut and made a home there.

Prying Pidge off of him, (she still managed to latch onto his hand like some sort of very tiny parasite) Matt led them into the building. The hallways were clean and sterile, reminding Lance of the hospitals back on Earth. Aliens of all kinds rushed past them, some exchanging information on holopads and others drinking some kind of thick substance from styrofoam cups. The alien version of coffee, perhaps?

Shiro followed Matt as closely as he dared, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. As elated as he was to see Matt again, he still was worried beyond belief about Keith. The cryptic warnings he’d gotten from both the alien that had greeted them and Matt did not sit well. As much as he wanted to see Keith again, he was terrified of what he would see.

Matt stopped outside of a door and raised his hand to the palm scanner. It buzzed for a moment before turning green and sliding the door open. Matt gave them all a meaningful look and held up a hand to stop them all from charging in as one.

“Wait for a minute,” he murmured. “He was recovering from a nightmare when I left so...just let me let him know you’re here.”

Shiro would rather charge headfirst and wrap Keith in the tightest hug he’d ever given anybody in his entire life, but he also understood the importance of time. Keith was likely like a terrified kitten right now. Anything too new or too abrupt would startle him and that was something they didn’t need.

Matt entered the room. Shiro could hear him murmuring something followed by a miniscule reply and then he reappeared at the door.

“Slow movements,” he said quietly. “Nothing too big. Okay?”

Pidge gave a meaningful look to Lance and Shiro specifically as she spoke. “Okay.”

Shiro took a deep breath, steeling his nerves, and was first into the room.

The boy sitting in the bed was both Keith and entirely _not_ Keith.

He still had the untidy mullet. He still had those beautiful amethyst eyes. But everything else...it was just _not Keith._

He stared at them, looking glad to see them, sure, but also just so lost and tired that it was hard to see past. His entire arm was wrapped in thick bandages, pinpricks of red dotting the surface. His shoulder was held in a makeshift sling that was clearly made last-minute and not by a medical professional’s hands. His face and hands were mottled with bruises in varying shades of green and purple. They were horrifying to look at; a testament to Keith’s pain.

Shiro’s gaze slid to the right. Next to him, Allura’s breath hitched.

“Oh _Keith,”_ she whispered.

Shiro wondered if she was talking about the state of their Red Paladin as a whole until he saw Keith’s right arm.

Or rather, the lack thereof.

In place of the flesh that _should have been there_ was metal. A prosthetic. Purple accents highlighted the shoulder, elbow, and knuckles, the metal sleek and new.

Shiro’s throat tightened. He tore his gaze from the horrible new arm and instead focused on Keith’s face.

A thousand words crammed into Shiro’s throat, but he couldn’t bring himself to say any of them. Instead, he just stared. Stared into the hopeless amethyst eyes that were so _dull_ just not... _Keith._

Lance was first forward. “Hey, Mullet,” he said with a strained smile. Keith’s gaze flickered toward him.

“How are you feeling, my boy?” Coran was trying very hard to sound chipper.

“Okay, I guess,” Keith’s voice was probably the worst thing about him. Before all this, Keith’s voice had been so strong. Hardly ever did it waver, Keith was someone who knew what he wanted and how to get people to listen. But _this_ Keith was meek. Quiet and reserved, like if he rose his voice any louder he’d be punished. For all Shiro knew, perhaps he thought he would be. He didn’t know what the Galra had put him through.

“Don’t worry,” Hunk’s gaze was now sweeping over the wounds. “We’ll...we’ll get you into a pod back at the Castle and then all of this will be a bad dream.” He paused. “A...really _really_ bad dream.”

“Okay,” Keith said quietly.

Shiro took a step forward, his stomach turning itself into knots. He wanted to do so many things in that moment; laugh, cry, and demand to know which Galra did this so he could tear them apart were at the top of his list.

But right now…

Shiro wanted to do one thing the most. 

“Keith…” he said quietly. Keith’s gaze snapped to him instantly, like he was waiting for Shiro to speak. “Can I...hug you?”

A pause. One that was probably only seconds but felt like an eternity.

Then, Keith nodded.

Shiro wasted no time in taking two long strides across the room. He reached over to hug Keith tightly, pulling the small, frail body into his. Careful not to disturb the bandages on his other arm, Shiro gripped Keith to him like he’d disappear if he let go. Keith closed his eyes, trembling slightly in Shiro’s grip.

“I’m sorry,” Shiro whispered hoarsely. “I’m _so sorry,_ Keith. You...god you didn’t deserve this.” He was painfully aware of Keith’s new prosthetic digging into his stomach but he didn’t _care._ Nothing mattered right now. Nothing except for the broken boy he was holding to him.

The bed was suddenly weighed down by someone sitting next to Shiro and Keith. They both turned to look at who it was. Allura looked between them and then scooted forward hesitantly, with her arms open. Keith didn’t protest as she wrapped them around both Shiro and Keith, pressing her face into Keith’s hair.

This was the invitation for the rest of the team to crowd around them. Lance settled himself on Keith’s left, hugging him around the neck and being careful not to disturb his wounds. Pidge wriggled herself onto Keith’s lap and hugged him around the middle. Hunk managed to slide himself behind Keith, his back pressed against the uncomfortable headboard, and wrapped his arms around them all. Coran stood in between Allura and Shiro, his forehead pressed against Keith’s own.

It was a discombobulated mess of limbs and hugging, but Keith wouldn’t’ve changed it for the world.

And, if he pretended hard enough, he could imagine that none of this happened. That it was all just a horrible nightmare he’d just woken up from.

It was with that thought - with Red’s presence renewed and purring in the back of his head - that Keith allowed himself to drift off in the enormous hug of people who loved him.

In the arms of his family.

But...even that couldn’t stop the yellow eyes that leered at him in his dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A cuddle-pile reunion! 
> 
> I'm so very glad we've finally gotten to this point in the story. While Keith has never been one for touch, he probably would accept a big group hug from the other Paladins after what he's been through. God knows he deserves it, especially with what he's been through. 
> 
> So, some shameless self-promotion here, if you guys want more Keith angst (or just team angst in general) I am doing a Bad Things Happen Bingo! The full list can be found on my tumblr, but the completed prompts are right here on my AO3! I've gotten several of them done, and I'm pretty proud of how they turned out. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! It was heart-wrenching to write and I'm just glad that Keith finally found his way home. Drop a comment if you liked it, I'd love hearing from you! Your favorite part, predictions, anything! 
> 
> See you next Saturday! <3


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some wounds are easier to heal than others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't beta-read, so all mistakes are on me. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Pidge was the one who pulled away first.

Her eyes wet with tears, she moved her hand to brush it gently over Keith’s arm. He recoiled, hissing in pain as it throbbed through his whole being. Lance moved to try and alleviate some of the light pressure he’d settled upon it.

“We should...really get that fixed,” Pidge said quietly. “There…” She brushed her palm gently against his shoulder. “There isn't still a bullet in his shoulder, is there?”

Keith shook his head, looking to Matt for confirmation.

“No,” he reassured them. “We pulled it out.” He pursed his lips. “Keith I...was meaning to talk to you about that…”

Keith tensed. Shiro’s grip tightened around him as the rest of the team started to pull away to give Keith a clear view of Matt.

“You...kinda freaked when you saw Uua,” Matt said. “Do...you wanna tell me why? Or do you not know?” His voice was low and coaxing. He wasn’t forcing Keith to say anything. Keith shivered, remembering the purple he’d seen, the same color that now haunted him forever in his dreams.

“I…” he licked his lips. “I saw purple. I-” He squeezed his eyes shut, leaning closer to Shiro. “I thought it was…”

“Oh…” Matt’s eyes widened in comprehension. “Oh, I’m sorry I...holy _shit,_ Keith…”

Keith shivered, the hairs on the back of his neck pricking up. They weren’t alone in this room were they? Laynek, Haggar, and Lotor were looming from the shadows, mouths twisted in leering grins as they congratulated Keith for falling for yet another one of their tricks.

“Hey,” Shiro whispered softly. Keith hung onto Shiro’s voice, using it to ground himself back into reality. “Hey, you’re safe. Okay? You’re safe.” Unable to reply, Keith could only whimper pathetically in response. He realized how fast his breathing had gotten in the span of a short minute - all from remembering the cold eyes of his captors.

“You’re all right now, Keith,” Allura whispered to him, laying a gentle hand upon his knee. Keith flinched and she withdrew it, masking the hurt on her face. Lance and Pidge exchanged looks next to each other on the tiny bed. It didn’t take a genius to see the guilt etched in their expressions. It was in their body language too - meek, careful movements. They must have thought this was all their fault.

“Let’s...get back to the castle,” said Hunk quietly. “We should get Keith into a pod. Who knows how much blood he’s lost.”

 _Too much,_ Keith thought, remembering the dizzying amounts of blood he’d lost in the span of...how long? He wasn’t sure. It could have been just a few days, or it could have been years. Time had become meaningless in that void of pain.

“Can you stand?” Coran asked Keith as they all piled off the bed. Shiro hovered by Keith’s shoulder like a mother hen, watching him carefully. Instead of replying, Keith swung his legs experimentally over the side of the bed. Testing his weight, he stood on unsteady legs. Then, almost instantly his knees buckled and he fell forward, vertigo hitting him hard. Shiro was there, catching Keith around the middle and keeping him steady. His prosthetic scraped against Keith’s mangled arm and Keith cried out in pain.

Shiro cursed, realizing his arm placement and moved it as fast as possible to Keith’s side, helping the smaller boy sit back down. The world spun around Keith, blurring into a wash of colors that didn’t remotely look like anything. He groaned softly.

“So walking is out,” Lance said anxiously. Keith felt guilt pile in his stomach. The team shouldn’t have to have been caring for him. He should have been able to do it himself.

He really was just a weak half-breed, wasn’t he?

“I’ll carry him back to the Castle,” Shiro decided after a moment. “Matt, hand me a few of the blankets.”

Matt did as he was asked, handing Shiro a few of the fluffiest. Shiro wasted no time in wrapping them around Keith, obscuring his body and all of its grotesque injuries and then lifted Keith into his arms.

“There we go,” he said softly. “Comfortable?”

Keith didn’t reply. His comfort didn’t matter anymore. Nothing did.

Shiro looked concerned at the lack of response.

Allura turned to Matt. “We...really can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done. We’ll repay you and your team somehow, I swear it.”

“No biggie,” Matt said. “You guys couldn’t get there, we understand.” Everyone exchanged similar dark looks at the comment. Matt bit his lip. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” Allura smiled unconvincingly. “We’re going to get Keith into a healing pod to heal his wounds and then we will return for the debriefing. Coran, can you-”

“I’ll stay with him,” Coran said firmly. He glanced at the black-haired bundle in Shiro’s arms. “After all, I am the only one whose memorized his genetic sequence to put into the pod. Should anything go wrong, I will be there.”

“We’ll be back soon,” Pidge promised, hugging Matt around the middle.

Keith’s wounds pulsed as they walked out of the room.

 

Red was purring.

Keith couldn’t help but listen to the sound, her presence stronger than ever in the back of his head. He lay in Shiro’s arms, wrapped in thick blankets that obscured his vision of the outside. For that, Keith was grateful. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to handle the looks thrown his way a second time.

Red nudged against him once, then twice, trying to get his attention. A familiar tug in the back of his head followed by images of an enormous hangar flooded down their link.

“I know…” he murmured quietly, trying to silence her. The tug came again, stronger this time. She _really_ wanted to see him.

“Hm?” Shiro hummed, thinking Keith was speaking to him. Keith shook his head, not quite meeting the gaze of his curious brother as they headed back to the Castle.

“It’s just…” he paused, licking his lips. His throat suddenly felt incredibly dry. The last water he’d drank was back on the rebel ship a day ago. Now, he was parched again, but he didn’t dare ask for more. He might be denied. Red growled at the thoughts, chasing them away and wrapping Keith in a blanket of protection. “It’s Red,” he said at last.

“Red?” Shiro repeated in disbelief. “Really?”

“Mhm.”

“That's surprising,” Hunk, who was listening in, spoke up. “She hasn’t been active at all since you’ve been…” he paused, searching for the right word. “Gone.”

The unspoken implications of what he'd said hung in the hair. 

Keith felt the purring in the back of his head grow louder. “I think she’s back," he said quietly. 

Shiro looked at him. “Do you want to see her?” He asked gently.

Red tugged harder at the prospect.

Keith nodded shortly.

Hunk beamed. “I’m sure she’ll be glad to see you.”

 

After explaining the situation to the others, who nodded in understanding and went off to get ready for the debriefing, Shiro carried Keith to the hangar. It turned out there that Red was, indeed, glad to see Keith.

As soon as Shiro appeared holding him, she roared to life, leaning down on enormous metal hinges to observe him. Her nose brushed gently against his head, brushing a tuft of his hair aside. Keith looked up at her weakly and lifted his injured hand to gently brush against her nose. The motion made him cry out in pain as he moved his shoulder and he instantly wrapped it back in blankets.

“Oh, Keith,” Shiro hummed. He knew what was going on. Keith’s right hand - the _prosthetic_ \- was closer to Red, but he didn't want to look at it. Didn’t want to see it for fear of what would happen.

Red bumped her nose gently against Keith’s hair again.

 _My Paladin,_ her motions seemed to ask. _What is wrong with him?_

“He’s been through a lot, Red,” Shiro murmured.

There was a pause, as Red observed her Paladin with enormous golden eyes.

“She didn’t like that,” Keith murmured. Shiro laughed shakily.

Keith turned his attention back to his lion, trying to feed all of his emotions down their link, to help her understand. He was so, _so_ happy to see her again, but he was in so much _pain,_ too. Conflicting emotions swirled inside of him. He felt like a maelstrom - untamable and unpredictable, with winds that ravaged everything that could be torn down.

Red, understanding that, by far, the worst thing right now was the mangled remains of his arm and the bullet wound in his shoulder, sent down love and acceptance down their bond. There was something else there too, something Keith couldn’t quite place until he felt the pain beginning to recede. He actually gasped out loud in surprise as Red began to curl herself around Shiro and Keith.

“Keith?” Shiro asked, concerned.

“She’s…” Keith swallowed hard. “She’s getting rid of the pain. Red…” He paused and looked up at Shiro. “She...wants me to get into a pod, I think.”

Shiro smiled gratefully up at the enormous Lion, observing her Paladin with quiet love. “Okay. Let’s do that, then.” He turned around to start heading towards the infirmary. Keith threw one last look at his lion over his shoulder, letting her bathe him in her warmth and love for just a moment longer.

Then, the hangar doors slid shut behind them.

 

It felt good to be back inside the Castle.

Keith raised his head to look at the ceiling of the infirmary, observing it silently. Coran stood a few feet away, punching in numbers and combinations into a pod. His wounds throbbed with agony, and he kept his metal arm firmly tucked away, hidden in the blanket. In the back of his mind, Red purred, sending another soothing pulse to help numb the pain. Keith wasn’t sure he needed it, though. Pain was a constant, now. A way to keep himself grounded. Familiar, but not in the way it should be.

“Keith, my boy?”

Keith’s head jerked up to meet Coran’s. He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling his markings.

“Pod’s ready. Do you want me to help you into the cryosuit?”

Keith shook his head, standing shakily. He stumbled, vertigo catching him and he reached out instinctively with his right arm to catch himself. The cold metal of it caught against the table and he recoiled instantly, his stomach churning. Coran’s face pinched into a frown.

“If you need help-”

“I got it,” Keith said, barely above a murmur. The metal was so cold. Like the table that changed temperature. Like the table that he’d been strapped into.

He forced the memories that flashed just under his eyelids away and straightened up. He stumbled for the cryosuit Coran had left a few feet away, grasping it firmly. He slipped it on, letting Coran zip it up in the back.

There was a pause. A quiet gasp.

“Keith…” Coran said, barely above a whisper. His fingers brushed gently against the puckered scars all across Keith’s back. He knew they weren’t from a past battle. “What…?”

“Don’t…” Keith said shortly. “Just...don’t.” His voice broke and Coran said no more. Instead, he finished zipping up the suit and wrapped his arm around Keith’s midsection to helped him walk. He was careful to avoid the injured arm Keith had tucked into his stomach. Keith tried not to think about how Coran was now pressed right up against his prosthetic arm.

“You’ll need to take a shower when you’re out, Number Four,” Coran spoke, a facade of his old cheeriness in his words. “As much as the pods heal, they cannot take away greasy hair and...erm…” His gaze flickered up. To the blood and salty tears encrusted in Keith’s hairline. “Everything else,” he finished lamely with a less-than-convincing smile.

Keith knew Coran was trying to help. His voice was low and tentative, careful not to startle Keith. But even still, he couldn’t help but be reminded of everything he’d been through. All of the garbage Laynek, Haggar, and Lotor had given him, all in the name of breaking him.

And they had _succeeded._

Keith was nothing now. A shell of his former self. If Keith was Voltron’s double-edged sword, that sword had been shattered down the middle. The blade had fallen elsewhere on the war-torn battlefield. Gone, buried under bodies and blood. Keith was nothing, now.

He wasn’t even sure he deserved to be a Voltron Paladin anymore.

Keith took another shaky step towards the crypod. He took a look at the smooth, featureless insides and suddenly-

He wasn’t in the Castle anymore.

He was running, _running_ down the hallways with footsteps stamping behind him. He clutched a bleeding arm to his chest, wrapped in blankets. He was making a desperate break for the door on the far end of the hallway, alarms singing in his ears.

He reached a hand out - a hand that was no longer metal and was gripping a blaster - and prepared himself for contact. Adrenaline hopped through his system as he cried out, voice strangled. He heard a voice - a distant voice - calling his name, urgency in their tone, but Keith could not tell who it was. His hand was now pressed against the scanner that wasn’t analyzing his DNA fast enough and-

_And-_

“ _Keith!”_

Keith blinked furiously. He was back in the Castle, collapsed on his hands and knees in front of the pod. He’d unconsciously thrown his prosthetic arm to catch him in the fall and he found himself transfixed by the purple accents.

He looked up at Coran, who was staring at him with his hand on Keith’s back. Concerned violet eyes peered into his own.

“C-Coran?” He choked out.

“Yes, yes, it’s me,” Coran said, his thumb dancing in circles on Keith’s back. “Keith...my boy...what happened?”

“I-I don’t know,” Keith said honestly. “I was...suddenly back  _ there  _ and-” He sucked in a deep breath. He knew these symptoms. Shiro had them in the middle of the night a lot, during his nightmares. He and Keith had spent hours talking through them and getting Shiro to let go and accept what had happened to him. 

Had...that just happened to Keith? 

Had he just had a PTSD attack? 

He felt like hurling. 

Keith let out a shuddering gasp. His shoulders trembled underneath Coran’s firm grip. With a horrible jolt in his stomach, he realized there were  _ tears  _ pricking at his eyes. 

A raspy breath escaped him and he leaned down with his injured arm still tucked up tight against his stomach. He rested his forehead against the floor, emotions building one after another in his chest. He’d been through so much,  _ so much,  _ and yet he still couldn’t escape what he’d seen. Who he was. 

Hot tears dripped onto the floor, conglomerating into tiny pools. Keith shuddered out a gasp and then-

He screamed. 

It was a long, broken wail that bounced off of the ceiling and echoed down the hallway. He released everything he’d been carrying with him for eight days in one painful cry that sounded strangled, even to him. 

Coran sat next to Keith, rubbing his back soothingly as he let it out. This was healthy, Coran knew. It was good. A release of pent-up emotions was beneficial for anyone, human or Altean.

He just wished it didn’t hurt so much to hear. 

Keith’s scream faded off into silence that was punctuated only by a horrible,  _ broken  _ sob. Keith’s shoulders trembled as he lay there, metal fist against the ground. He cried, eyes flooded with tears. Coran would be lying if he didn’t feel his eyes prick and his throat close up at the sight of so much  _ pain.  _

“I’m here for you, Keith,” he whispered. “I am  _ here.”  _

With care, he lifted Keith into his arms. Keeping his horrible injury up against his stomach, Keith shifted into him. Coran let him, wrapping his arms around Keith as the younger boy’s forehead dropped down on his shoulder. 

Keith was so  _ small.  _ So frail. Of course, he’d always been a little shorter than most of the other Paladins, trumping only Pidge in height. But this...this was a different kind of little. Shrunken down by his experiences, by his  _ pain.  _ Keith no longer stood tall, he hunched inward. A once proud sword reduced to a dull edge. 

What had he been through to warrant such a change? 

Coran didn’t dwell on it. He didn't want to. Instead, he carded his fingers gently through Keith’s hair and held him. Let him cry. 

Lord knew that he needed it.

The two of them knelt there together, Keith’s sniffles permeating the very air. It was thick with pain and sadness, but Coran bore it silently. He had failed his King, his people, even his own family. 

But he would  _ not  _ fail Keith. 

He swore that with his arms wrapped around the Red Paladin who had lost his spark. 

Who had lost the sun that had once burned so bright inside. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I mentioned how much I love Coran? Because I l o v e Coran. He's such a goofball on the outside but is actually concerned for everyone and just wants to keep them safe. 
> 
> I absolutely adore him. 
> 
> So I started playing Danganronpa (Trigger Happy Havoc, first) and I'm actually really enjoying it! The mechanics are fun the Class Trials are by far the best part of the game. I find myself looking forward to whose gonna die next (as much as it hurts) just so I can do another trial. It's actually super fun! 
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! And, if you did, leave a comment! I want to hear from you! Favorite moments, predictions, little things you want me to do...if I like the idea, I just might use it! Who knows? :p
> 
> See you all next Saturday!


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Old enemies are not that easy to get rid of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't beta-read, so all mistakes are on me. 
> 
> Enjoy!

“...and that concludes my report on the events on the Galran battleship.”

Matt sat back down, his face a stoic mask. Across from him, the Voltron Paladins all sat with expressions of varying levels of disgust and horror. Next to him, Mira shifted slightly, eying them with an unreadable look.

The silence in the room was palpable. Thick with tension. Even the other rebel members were quiet at the horrors Matt and his team had gone through just to get Keith out. And that was probably nothing compared to what the Red Paladin himself had endured. The memory of seeing Keith on the floor, curled into a small ball with blood everywhere and a collar on his neck…

It was enough to make Matt want to hurl.

“That…” Lance cleared his throat, cutting across the crushing silence. He leaned forward, his hands in fists on the table. “That Laynek guy...he really is dead, right?”

“I don’t see any way he could have survived,” Mira said. “After Matthew stabbed him and the ship blew up...it would not surprise me if he were."

“And Haggar and Lotor,” Shiro’s voice had a certain _edge_ to it. Something Matt had never heard in his voice before. “Are they dead too?”

“Unfortunately, I can’t confirm or deny that,” Matt said grudgingly. He would have loved to say that the two were dead, but Haggar was resourceful, Lotor even more so. The prospect of the two of them surviving somehow was higher than Matt would have liked.

Shiro sucked in a sharp, angry breath through his teeth.

“If Haggar’s alive then…” he said. “There’s a possibility that Laynek could be too.”

“Uh…” Uua raised an eyebrow. “How? Matt stabbed him _in the neck._ Then he was probably blown up.”

“I…” Shiro gritted his teeth. “I was a prisoner of the Galra. I don’t remember much, but I do remember the druids. Haggar, specifically, was the one who took my arm. And...Keith’s arm too, if I had to bet. They love to experiment.”

Allura looked at Shiro, horrified. “So...what you’re saying is...if they found Laynek’s body and, by chance, he was still clinging to some shred of life then-”

“Yes,” Shiro said grimly. “They’d bring him back. Somehow. Under Lotor’s orders, too.”

Matt felt his stomach dip at the possibility. He hated how plausible it sounded. A former prisoner himself, he knew far too well the druids and their love of experimentation. If Haggar was their leader…

She likely would not hesitate to tear a body limb from limb if it meant learning its secrets.

“Okay, no, no, no, no, nope,” Lance shook his head furiously, drawing everyone’s attention. “He was stabbed _in the neck,_ Shiro. And you're thinking it’s...it’s got a lot of ‘what if’s’ in there, okay?”

“I second this,” Hunk raised his hand. “A-And besides. There are a lot of arteries in the neck, right?”

“The carotid arteries, the vertebral artery, and maxillary artery, to name a few,” Pidge said.

“Yes, exactly, thank you, Pidge,” Hunk said. He was speaking rapidly, panic evident in his undertones. “And, if I’m remembering correctly, the carotid arteries are like...essential, right? S-So if Matt pierced one of them then Laynek would just...bleed out and die.”

Matt hardly remembered the anatomy classes he’d taken at the Garrison. It had been a graduation requirement; something he had to know in order to perform emergency first aid in space. However, he knew enough to realize Hunk was right. Laynek _would_ bleed out.

_Except…_

“Laynek was...super buff, wasn’t he?” Matt said slowly, looking at Mira and Uua as he spoke. “Like...this guy was _made_ of muscles. And what I stabbed him with was just one of the broken halves of my staff.” The wounds on Matt’s face pulsed as if remembering the agony. “I would have to put a lot of power into my swing in order to hit one of his arteries. Likely...all I did was knock him out.”

The Paladins paled. Allura looked especially disturbed.

“It is a trait that is similar in both human anatomy and Altean anatomy that one is knocked out by a harsh blow to the back of the neck, right?” She asked carefully.

“Yeah,” Pidge and Hunk exchanged looks. “Given enough force, you could knock someone out.”

Matt’s stomach dropped at the realization.

_Oh no._

_Oh no, oh no, oh no._

It was all his brain could come up with to say.

He hadn’t killed Laynek.

No, not at all. In fact, given Haggar’s love for experimentation and the fact that both she and Lotor were too resourceful, too clever to not escape the explosion…

There was no doubt at all. Even if the explosions had horribly marred him...

Laynek was alive.

_He was alive._

Matt stared, dumbstruck at the table. He felt sick. The demon who’d caused Keith the most pain, who had called him ‘worthless’, called him a _prisoner…_

He was _still alive._

“So all I did…” Matt’s voice came out in a whimper. “ _All I did_ was knock him out?!”

“The more muscle mass you have,” Hunk whispered. “The harder it is for something to pierce deep enough in the skin to cut an artery...oh _god.”_

“ _Dios,”_ Lance whispered. “ _Oh dios,_ what do we do?”

The Paladins all exchanged looks. They were clearly unsure of where to proceed. How could they know? They had just found one of the biggest demons in the Galra Empire had survived against all odds. There was no right way to go about it. They were trapped; conflicted and unable to figure out a solution. At least until Pidge slammed both of her hands down on the table with a loud thud. Attention turned to her.

“We hunt him down,” she said forcefully. Her glasses glinted as she looked up. “We hunt him down and rip him, Haggar, and Lotor to _shreds.”_

“Hear, hear,” Allura’s voice was surprisingly vehement for someone who’d been so calm and collected for most of the debriefing.

Matt looked at the other Paladins, reading their expressions. They ranged from anger, to fear, to determination, but Shiro…

Shiro displayed none of this.

It was a conflicted expression. One that looked unfamiliar. His eyes were downcast, fixed firmly on his prosthetic arm. He raised his head, met Matt’s gaze, and Matt felt a jolt go through his chest.

_Shiro…?_

“We can’t tell Keith,” he said at last, looking away to observe his team.

“ _What?!”_ Pidge sounded like she offended by the very idea. “ _Why?!_ Keith of _anyone_ deserves to know!”

“Agreed!” Lance said. “He should know so we’re all on the same page!”

“Guys, Keith is _scared,”_ Shiro said. “He’s been through more than I think he’ll ever be ready to tell us. If we tell him that one of the people who tortured him is still alive, we’ll just _add_ to that.”

Hunk looked crestfallen. “...he has a point.”

“And…” Shiro sighed. “I don’t think it helps much that before all this, I was missing for a month within the Black Lion’s consciousness. Keith was likely already stressed from all the changes he went through and the Galra situation...it just made things worse. We have to be careful here. Slow and steady.”

Lance crossed his arms over his chest, almost like he was pouting. “He’s right. We can’t go Galra hunting when Keith is like this…”

“What we should _do_ is find somewhere safe we can hide,” Allura said. “Some obscure system where he can recover in peace, preferably outside of Galra occupied space.”

“How about the Sarvian System?” Matt piped up.

“The...what?” Lance said, making a face. "That word doesn't make sense in English  _or_ Spanish." 

Matt stood up and placed a small triangle on the table. He tapped it once, and it sprang to life, an enormous map of the universe appearing. Artificial stars and planets twinkled in the dying light of the sun outside, every single planet and system labeled with tiny markers. Color-coded, of course, Matt thought smugly. Because what was he, an animal?

Without pausing to admire his handiwork, Matt moved his finger to scroll through the systems. After a moment, he stopped a galaxy colored mint blue and pointed.

“Here,” he said. “The Sarvian System. We liberated it from the Galra maybe...two months back? Regardless, It’s got maybe two planets orbiting a sun on the verge of collapse. That won’t happen for another seventy thousand years or so, but it’s still giving off massive amounts of quantum interference. It’ll mask any signal your ship gives out, but you won’t get any signals in. So, until Keith recovers, Voltron is kind of out of commision.”

“So we’re completely masked in exchange for all of our communications?” Pidge frowned.

“Pretty much.”

Lance bit his lip, eyebrows furrowing. He looked at the tiny system and then back at the others. “Shiro?” He said, seeking out their leader specifically. “What should we do?”

“I…” Shiro sighed. “It’s safe, true, but...I don’t know if we should sacrifice Voltron’s transmissions. We could miss some important distress signals.” He cast an anxious look at Allura as he spoke. Her expression softened.

“Shiro, don’t be concerned about my feelings for distress calls and the like,” she said softly. “What matters right now is Keith. Besides, Voltron would not have been an option regardless. We cannot form Voltron is one’s mind is still in a state of...deep unrest.”

“All right,” Shiro said. “We head there, then. Until Keith recovers enough to be able to return to battle. And then…”

“We hunt down Laynek,” Pidge said forcefully. “And we make sure he really _does_ die this time.”

“ _But,”_ Shiro said forcefully. “We don’t tell Keith this. Any of this. Not until I think he’s ready to hear it, and even then I have to be the one to tell him. Got it?”

The Paladins all nodded. Matt was a bit surprised to hear Shiro sound so forceful. Normally he was the calm and collected one. A natural-born leader who oozed charisma and authority. But now...he sounded almost _scared._ Matt couldn’t blame him. He knew how much Keith meant to Shiro and to see him broken and bloody the way he was...it was likely more than Shiro could bear.

But Keith was back. And they were going to save him. Whatever it took.

Matt sucked in a shaky breath. His pocket - where he had kept the strange white weapon he'd found in the Galra storage - suddenly felt a lot heavier. 

"One more thing," he said. As the attention shifted to him, he dug in his pocket and lifted the weapon out. The Paladins' eyes all went as wide as saucers. 

"Where did you get that?" Allura said breathlessly. 

"I found it on the ship," Matt said. "It... didn't look like something the Galra should have. I was hoping you guys would know what it was." 

"Of course we do," Lance was half-way between standing and sitting, his palms placed firmly on the table. He was leaning forward, inspecting the weapon. "That's Keith's  _bayard."_

"Bay...what?" 

"Bayard," Pidge said. "It's the weapon of the Paladins of Voltron." 

"We were all expecting it was lost," said Shiro. "Like we'd have to get it back like we had to do with the black bayard. But Matt you..." He trailed off, a hoarse laugh bubbling up his throat. "You absolute  _genius."_

Matt smiled, a bit smugly. "I try." 

"So this..." Mira tapped the weapon - the  _bayard_ \- in Matt's hand. "Belongs to Keef?" Lance snickered at the mispronunciation of Keith's name. Pidge elbowed him. 

"Yeah," Hunk nodded. "We all have one. It changes based on who's using it." 

"Fascinating," Mira breathed. Matt nodded in agreement and placed it on the table. He slid it across to Allura, who picked it up reverently. She held it close to her, fist clenched tightly around the handle. Matt felt a little relief at the sight. 

Keith wouldn't be completely defenseless now. He'd have his friends and most importantly a  _weapon_ to defend himself if Laynek came looking. 

“All right,” Matt said finally. “Meeting adjourned.”

 

Shiro made a beeline for the infirmary as soon as he entered the Castle.

The rest of the team hurried behind him, chattering anxiously amongst themselves. Allura and himself were the only silent ones, lost in their own minds.

Shiro knew Keith would be fine (he was in Coran’s care, after all) but it still didn’t alleviate the pressure that had settled over his chest.

The door opened as they approached and Shiro entered the room with Lance tripping in behind him. He glanced around, finding the only occupied pod immediately. He breathed a sigh of relief.

_Keith would be okay._

Coran sat in an uncomfortable straight-backed chair a few feet from the pod. He held a tablet, scrolling through it quietly with his free hand. Bloody bandages lay discarded on the table a few feet away. Shiro had a horrible feeling he knew what they were from.

“Coran?” Lance was the first to speak. Coran looked up from his tablet and gave them all tired smile. His eyes were red-rimmed and a little puffy.

Had...he been _crying?_

“Ah, welcome back,” he said cheerily. “How was the debriefing?”

Allura looked at Shiro, biting her lower lip. Shiro gave her a _go on_ motion with his hand. He wasn’t going to stop her from telling him. After all, Coran would hate being left out on something so important.

 _So would Keith,_ a traitorous part of Shiro’s brain told him.

 _Shut up,_ Shiro told it.

Keith was already mentally burdened enough. He’d have nightmares that would plague him, likely for the rest of his life. Recovery would not be easy. If he told Keith that there was a high possibility that Laynek survived, the consequences would be disastrous. Keith would not heal. He would only worry about the Galra that had ripped everything from him, that had hurt him time and time again. He had enough on his plate, between losing his arm and Haggar and Lotor. Shiro did not need to add to that burden.

“We...discovered some disturbing news,” Allura said carefully. “The identity of the person who likely destroyed Keith’s left arm was a Galran named Laynek. Matt thought he had perished but…” She trailed off.

“It’s more likely he survived,” Shiro finished for her. He sighed heavily, looking at Keith’s pod.

“Oh...oh dear,” Coran’s face fell. “And...what do we plan to do about it?”

“We hunt him down and kill him,” Pidge said forcefully. She had never been so serious about anything in her entire life. Normally, the thought of killing someone made her stomach churn. She made sure to avoid any fatal injuries when she went toe-to-toe with a Galra officer because she was afraid of the repercussions of killing someone.

But this Galra…

This Galra had hurt Keith. Ripped him apart. Doused his fire in the same way Lotor and Haggar did.

Pidge would have no qualms about sticking her katar down his throat and hoping he choked on electricity.

Coran hummed softly. “I see...and Keith? What do we tell him?”

Attention in the room shifted to Shiro. Guilt swam in Shiro’s stomach, but he forced it down.

_This was for Keith’s sake._

“We don’t,” he said simply. “Telling Keith would only burden him. He has enough to work through without this Galran causing issues.”

Coran nodded grimly. “I understand. If we tell him, it will only scare him more. Right now, he needs to know that he is safe and he is loved.” He fell silent. Shiro wondered just what had gone on between Keith and Coran while they were gone that bothered the older man so.

“Yes,” Allura sighed. “Our priority now is getting Keith to recover.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I will set our course for the Sarvian System.”

“The Sarvian System?” Coran repeated. “Isn’t that…?”

“A tiny system with a big star that’s about to go supernova?” Lance asked. “Yup.”

“But that won’t happen for another seventy thousand years, according to Matt,” Pidge said. “Even if time is wonky, it still won’t happen while we’re there. Besides, it’ll mask our signal really well.”

“Because of the interference,” Coran guessed.

“Yup,” Hunk said. “Quantum interference and dying stars and all that.”

“Let us go then,” Coran stood up, reaching out to set his tablet next to the bloody bandages, but Allura held out a hand to stop him. He stared at her, puzzled. “Princess?”

“I can set the course,” she said firmly. “You stay here and watch over Keith. He will need you should anything in his pod malfunction.”

Coran blinked owlishly at her. Then, after a pause, he slowly sat back down. “If you insist…”

Allura gave him a grateful smile and glanced at the rest of the team in turn. She gave Shiro a reassuring smile, patted him on the shoulder, and then left.

Silence followed after that.

Shiro stared at Keith’s pod, a mixture of guilt and relief festering in his gut. Keith was in there. He was alive and safe and _healing._

_But at what cost?_

Keith had suffered so because Shiro had failed. Because the _team_ had failed to get there in time. Lotor had them right where he wanted them - under his thumb. They had to agree to his terms or run the risk of losing one of their own. Had it not been for the rebel’s discovery then…

A shudder chased its way up Shiro’s spine.

The answer was simple. There would be no Keith to gather in the Nayak System. They would get a husk. A body barely clinging to life and then that would fade too. Shiro had no doubt that was what would have happened, given the state of Keith’s body.

Shiro felt like hurling.

This was his fault.

And yet…

He was so, _so_ grateful Keith was back.

The Castle rumbled underneath them. Their take-off sequence engaged, it was not long before the floor was shuddering beneath them. They all ran to hold onto something while the Castle rocketed its way into space. Lance wrapped his arms around a nearby table, while Hunk grabbed the doorframe and Pidge clung onto him. Shiro used a chair to steady himself, while Coran sat there, completely unfazed, and continued to read on his tablet.

Eventually, though, the shaking stopped. It was replaced by the peaceful weightlessness of space. They had left the Zaafian atmosphere and were now likely on their way to the Sarvian System. Shiro released his hold on the chair with a creak from his prosthetic and cast a look at Keith’s pod again. It stood undisturbed and silent, Keith healing inside.

“How long until he’s out?” Lance was the one to ask the question lingering in all of their minds.

Coran looked at Lance, to the pod, then back at his tablet. He tapped on it for a moment, and Shiro could see the steady vitals of Keith displayed on the front. He scrolled, clearly looking for something, before responding. “About another quintant,” he said. “The damage done to his left arm, particularly, is extensive. I’m afraid to say that the pod will be...unable to fully repair the damage.”

Hunk paled. “What does that mean?”

“It’ll scar,” Coran looked at the pod, chewing his lower lip. “It will scar, and it will not look nice.”

Shiro’s stomach dipped. He looked at Keith’s pod, his throat tightening. Keith would get out, but not without a horrible trophy for what he had been through. A permanent sign that he had nearly been ripped apart at the Galra Empire’s hands. He already had too many reminders. The prosthetic was enough. But now he had to deal with the scars too?

Shiro was so sick - so _angry_ \- he felt like hurling.

Hunk almost did just that, looking green around the face and clapping a hand to his mouth.

“Jesus _fuck,”_ Pidge said. Shiro half-wanted to reprimand her for her language, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it or to even really _care._ “A scar? Holy shit…”

“Not just one scar,” Coran lifted the tablet to show them. A diagram of Keith’s body - red outlining his left arm and his right arm missing altogether - was on the screen. He tapped the red area. “Multiple, all crisscrossing up his entire arm and shoulder.”

“There’s...no way to fix it?” Hunk asked weakly. 

“The healing pods are not a miracle product,” Coran said. “They merely accelerate the normal healing process with antibiotics and painkillers in accordance with the user’s gene set. Just as a normally healing human body would leave scars...this too will leave them.”

“ _Dios,”_ Lance whispered. “Why Keith? What did Keith do to deserve this?”

There was no answer to that.  

Shiro wasn’t sure there ever would be.

He folded his arms, his gaze set on the pod. “We should...get some sleep,” he said finally. The past eight days had been harder than any other in his entire life. He had hardly slept, much less thought about anything other than what might be happening to Keith. “Keith is safe now. He’s safe and will be okay. We should get some rest so we all don’t look exhausted when he gets out of the pod.”

Coran nodded. “Yes, that’s a good idea. I shall remain here and alert you all of any changes.”

“But...don’t you need sleep too?” Lance asked weakly.

“There’s a bed in the back of the room,” Coran reassured him. “I will use that and keep an eye on Keith at the same time.” He smiled at all of them, trying to soothe their agitated nerves. “He will be fine. He will heal. And we _will_ help him.” He spoke with such conviction, he was hard to doubt him. Shiro found himself believing the words as hope filled his heart. He looked at Keith’s pod, determined.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Yeah, we will. He won’t go through this alone.”

Pidge crossed the room, placing her hand on the pod. She closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the cold glass and fell silent for a moment, quietly listening.

“We’ll help you,” she whispered. Promise hung in her words. "You’ll be okay.” She pulled away and turned to give everyone else a weak smile. “Let’s get some sleep.”

“ _S_ _í,”_ Lance agreed. “I can’t say I’ll sleep well, but it’ll be easier to relax...knowing he’s back.”

Shiro nodded in agreement. “Yeah...let’s get some rest.”

They all trooped out of the infirmary, leaving Coran and his tablet inside. Shiro glanced one last time over his shoulder at Keith’s pod. For a moment, he imagined Keith healing inside. Wrapped in a cryosuit, eyes closed as he slept through the healing process. His face was slack, relaxed in the comfort of sleep.

And for just that moment, Shiro liked to imagine Keith was at peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Laynek lives? :OO 
> 
> I'VE BEEN WAITING TO SPRING THIS ON YOU GUYS YHUJIKOLP
> 
> A lot of research really went into the possibility of Laynek actually dying when Matt stabbed him. Turns out, the more muscle mass you have, the harder it is for something (say a knife, or the broken half of a staff) to be driven deep enough into your skin to cut an essential artery. Especially if it's tensed up, like Laynek was during that battle. 
> 
> So...oops? :P
> 
> Shiro keeping it a secret might also not have a very good effect on Keith either. :P 
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed reading! Leave a comment or something if you did, I'd love hearing from you! 
> 
> See you all next Saturday! <3


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A long overdue conversation goes some heartfelt places. Meanwhile, Hunk and Shiro make cupcakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't beta-read, so all mistakes are on me. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Sleep, as it appeared, was nothing but a dream Lance would have in his waking hours.

He lay for hours with his hands folded behind his head, staring blankly at the ceiling above him. The room was in total darkness - the whole Castle had been put into ‘night-mode’, (as Hunk so eloquently put it) and therefore the corridors outside were also completely dark. The teal lights were dim, the Castle was silent.

And Lance’s stomach was absolutely _writhing._

The concept of guilt was not foreign to him. In fact, it was probably one of the emotions he knew best. But this had to take the cake in the ‘List of Things Lance Was Guilty About.’

He’d let Keith get captured. If he’d only stayed and let Pidge run on ahead, maybe none of this would have happened.

This...really was all of his fault, wasn’t it?

Sure, they’d gotten Keith back and sure, after a day in the pod he’d be as good as new, but at what _cost?_

They’d never get the real Keith back. They’d get a Keith with scars. They’d get a Keith with a prosthetic. They’d get a Keith who’d lost his spark.

It didn’t help that Lance had no idea what was going on inside the pod. Coran was the only one in there, and while Lance had complete faith in him, there was something to be said about being there to observe recovery in person.

Lance sighed quietly and rolled over onto his stomach, burying his face into his pillow. He tucked his arms underneath it, fisting his hands into the fabric.

_Keith and Lance, neck and neck…_

Who was he kidding? Himself?

Keith was better. Always better. Maybe that’s why Lance thought he could handle it back then. But even Keith had his limits. Even Keith - whose drive seemed endless - could reach a breaking point.

Lance swung his legs off of his bed and stood up. The cold tile chilled his feet, but he could no longer sit still. He had to be there for Keith now if he couldn’t back then. He owed him that much.

Lance used the dim teal of the nighttime lights to guide himself to the infirmary. The corridors were silent. It appeared everyone had adhered to Shiro’s wish for everyone to get to sleep.

Everyone...except him.

Lance gave himself some awkward self-hug as he walked. He stared at the ground as he walked, trying not to think about how guilty he felt. How nothing, not even an endless apology to Keith, would ever fix it.

The seventh wheel, Lance McClain, always fucking up.

Always... _fucking up._

The infirmary door slid open with a quiet hiss. The infirmary was silent, save for the hum of the pods and the Castle around them. Coran was still in his chair, his head tilted backward and mouth gaping open. He was snoring loudly, drool making its way grossly down his chin. His tablet lay in his lap, forgotten. Keith’s pod was equally as prone, mist obscuring the poor boy within. And in front of the pod-

A tiny little form wrapped in an oversized green blanket. Pidge.

She was looking over at him, bags under her eyes and looked positively exhausted. Lance looked back, his gaze darting between where she was sitting and Keith’s pod. He understood a moment later.

“You too?” He said with a little smile.

“Yeah,” Pidge tried to smile back. “Come sit down. Be quiet, though, I don’t know how deep of a sleeper Coran is.”

Lance padded over and sank down next to her. He tucked his cold feet into his sweatpants and looked up at Keith’s pod silently. It stared back, dim and featureless. A chill ran up Lance’s spine and he shivered, suddenly hyper-aware of how cold the room was.  

Pidge cast him a sideways look and unwrapped part of her blanket and opened it with one of her arms. Lance gave her a grateful smile and crawled in, wrapping it around him. They were both lucky it was so big and could probably wrap around both of them twice.

They were silent, staring up at Keith’s pod. Some of the unbearable pressure Lance had been fighting to keep at bay began to rise off of him. Something about seeing the pod, knowing that Keith was in there and healing, helped him relax.

“Do you think…” Pidge’s voice was soft, but still all too loud. It echoed, bouncing off the walls before fading into silence. “Do you think some of this is our fault?”

Lance froze, turning to look at her. Blue met amber, a similar look - a similar _pain_ \- held in both pairs of eyes. Under the blanket, Pidge moved to press her body against his. She was trembling. It was not from the cold.

“ _Mi hermana,”_ Lance whispered, uncaring of whether she understood him or not.

“We…” Pidge sucked in a deep rattling breath. “We were the last ones to see him before he got captured. Why did we think he’d be okay? Why did we _go?_ We should have stayed…” She buried her face in her hands. “We should have _stayed,_ Lance.”

“I know,” Lance sighed. “ _Dios,_ Pidge, I _know._ I thought about that every single day while we tried to get him back. And even now that we have him back, I keep thinking about it.” He swallowed, licking his lips hesitantly. “I just… I’ve realized that this rivalry thing I have with him it’s...it’s what _caused_ this.”

Pidge turned watery eyes to him. “What?”

“Keith...has his limits,” Lance said. He kept his gaze fixed firmly on where he thought Keith’s face was. “He has his limits, and I forgot that. He’s always so... _driven._ A-And I kept...using that. I used that as a way to motivate myself. I _know_ Keith is better than me. I _know_ that this rivalry is totally one-sided. But… I just used him to push myself to become better and better and since he’s always three steps in front of me I...I forgot he has his limits too.” He laughed, the sound bitter and burning his throat. “Maybe if I’d remembered that, I’d have stayed to help him.”

“Lance…” Pidge whispered. “You… can’t use Keith like that. You know that, right?”

“Yeah… yeah, I know,” Lance said, swiping at his bangs with one of his hands. His fingers were shockingly cold against his forehead. “It’s not fair to Keith because he’s just human and-”

“No,” Pidge put her hand over his under the blanket. She squeezed it gently, prompting Lance to look at her. “It’s not fair to _you.”_

“ _Que?”_ Lance was so surprised, he forgot to speak English.

“You shouldn’t use Keith as someone to chase after,” Pidge said. “That will just make you feel worse when you don’t catch up. You can never be Keith, and I… don’t mean that in a bad way.” She colored, clearly at a loss for words. She was more into machines than people. She knew how to fix computer problems, but humans were an enigma. She was pulling every word out of her ass, but at least they were coming from the heart. That was what mattered. “You can’t be Keith because you’re _you,_ Lance. Our sharpshooter, our wise-cracking dork who we can’t do without. The heart of our team.” She paused and moved to scoot a little bit closer to Lance, hesitantly wrapping her arms around him. She dropped her head onto his shoulder. “You’re every bit as worthy as Keith is,” she said, her voice muffled by Lance’s shirt.

The words struck deep into Lance. His mouth fell open, forming an ‘o’ shape as he gaped at her. He couldn’t find anything to say. Dozens - maybe even hundreds - of words crammed themselves into his throat. None of them, he felt, did justice to Pidge’s heartfelt words. Instead, he felt his eyes water. He turned his head to hide them in Pidge’s hair, breathing in the strawberry shampoo she’d taken to using.

“Pidge…” he whispered, his voice cracking.

“You’re important, Lance,” she said. “So, _so_ important.” She chuckled wetly. “I can’t even count the number of times you’ve been there for me when I couldn’t find Matt. You helped me feel better. You let me see that one way or another, everything was going to be okay.”  

Lance blinked furiously, trying not to cry. His shoulders shook. He was surprised, but so very _touched._

Pidge saw worth in him. She saw that he and Keith may have not been on par in skill, but Lance had something Keith would never have. Not just his incredible sharpshooting eye, but his ability to help and to _heal._

He wrapped his arms around Pidge and hugged her as tightly as he could. Her body was so small. It had always reminded Lance of his littlest brother, Luis, but right now, it was just Pidge. It was her, her strawberry-scented hair, and Keith’s pod.

“Then…” His cheeks were wet with tears. He sniffled pathetically, but Pidge didn’t seem to care in the slightest. “I’d better use that skill to help Keith, huh?”

“You’d better,” Pidge said. Lance let out a watery laugh.

“Then we can apologize for not being there,” he whispered. “For letting this happen.”

“We can make up by doing another Star Wars movie marathon,” Pidge whispered. “He really liked those.” Lance smiled, reminiscing in those old memories. They were so, _so_ precious now. A time he’d shared with his new family that he’d treasure for the rest of his life. “What was his favorite character again?” Pidge asked. “Han Solo, right?”

“They are like one of the same,” Lance snorted, wiping tears out of his eyes with the back of his hand. “Two loners that are really good at piloting spaceships.”

Pidge’s shoulders shook with laughter. “But we love him regardless.”

“Yeah,” Lance leaned his cheek on the top of Pidge’s head. He looked up at Keith’s pod, silent and stoic above them. “We do.”

Pidge began to go slack underneath him, taken by the throes of sleep. Lance would be lying if he didn’t feel equally as exhausted, wrapped in a soft green blanket with Pidge clinging onto him and the knowledge that Keith was healing just a few feet away.

_How relaxing._

Lance shut his eyes.

He listened to the hum of the ship around him, the crypod at work, and started to let his body fall sideways, pulling Pidge along with him. They fell to the floor in a tangled heap, legs overlapping each other and a green blanket wrapped around them like a burrito.

“I used to think Matt was the only big brother I ever needed,” Pidge murmured sleepily into Lance’s chest. “Pretty dumb now that I think about it. I have you now. And Shiro, and Hunk, and Keith, too. Allura and Coran can be our… alien relatives or something.”

“Space Mom and Space Uncle,” Lance agreed. He smiled dimly. “We’re one big family. One big...space family.”

Pidge laughed. “Space family. I like that…”

“Me too,” whispered Lance. He felt his consciousness starting to fade, taken by the weightlessness of sleep. Then, in the distance, he heard Pidge speak again.

“Hey, how do you say ‘brother’ in Spanish?” She asked.

“ _Hermano,”_ said Lance thickly.

Pidge hummed. “And ‘good night’?”

“ _Buenos noches.”_

“Okay. _Buenos_ nachos, herman.”

Lance chuckled. She’d completely butchered the pronunciation, but he was too tired to really correct her.

“What?” Pidge asked. “Did I get it wrong?”

“Yup,” Lance said. “But that’s okay. I’ll teach you more later if you want. I can teach everyone to speak Spanish.”

“And Coran and Allura can teach us Altean,” Pidge agreed. “One big...language party.” She snuggled into Lance’s chest, relaxing fully. “ _Buenos_ nachos, _hermano.”_

Lance smiled. She’d gotten more of the words that time. “ _Buenas noches, mi hermana.”_

“Hey…” Pidge said sleepily. “You said it different…”

“ _Nos_ is masculine, _nas_ is feminine,” Lance muttered.

“Spanish is weird…”

“It makes more sense than English.”

Pidge didn’t say anything to that. Her breathing had gone even, chest rising and falling in an even pattern. Assuming she’d fallen asleep, Lance let himself fall away as well.

And that was how Coran found them in the morning, a tangled mess of legs and blanket, lying in front of Keith’s pod.

 

Late-night excursions were not new to Allura.

She’d just guided the Castle through a wormhole and set them on a steady course into the Sarvian System. Going directly into the system would have been too risky, due to the unstable star currently heading full-speed toward a supernova. It’d be easier - and safer - to go there manually.

Fatigued by the jump, Allura headed to the kitchen to get herself a water pouch before heading off to bed.

She didn’t expect the kitchen to already be occupied.

It was Shiro and Hunk, both looking exhausted with dark bags like bruises under their eyes. Shiro was sitting at the counter, chewing thoughtfully with a half-eaten cupcake in his hand. A batch of them exactly like it sat on the counter. Allura was quite sure they didn’t need any more sweets in storage after Hunk whipped up a storm of them after Keith’s capture, but wasn’t going to stop him from doing something he liked.

But Shiro being here was… new.

“It’s getting closer,” Shiro said with his mouth full. “It’s got more of that… red velvet taste. Not enough cream-cheese though.”

Hunk nodded briskly, putting the current cupcakes aside. He turned around and set to work, stirring a batch of orange frosting furiously.

Allura, completely bemused by the odd situation occurring in front of her, raised her voice. “Er… might I inquire what’s going on here?”

Both Hunk and Shiro whirled around like they’d been caught doing something they shouldn’t have. Shiro placed the cupcake he was about to finish off back on the counter, clearing his throat awkwardly as he wiped crumbs off of his hands.

“Princess,” he greeted awkwardly. “What… brings you here this late?”

“I’ve finished getting us as close as possible to the Sarvian System,” she said carefully. “I’d thought I’d get something to drink before heading off to my chambers for the night. What… are you doing here so late?”

“Making cupcakes,” Hunk said bluntly. Bright pink batter was smeared across his cheek.

“I’m sorry, what?” Allura blinked. She’d never heard of such a thing before. “I’m not sure I know what these cup… cakes are.”

“They’re little muffins with frosting on the top,” Hunk said. “Want to try one?” He gestured to the ever-growing pile of rejected cupcakes with neat, orange frosting swirls on top.

Allura, deciding she had nothing better to do than to hang out with her Paladins, moved to sit next to Shiro at the counter. “Of course.”

Shiro passed her a cupcake and she lifted it to her mouth and took a bite. It was still warm from the oven, the buttery yet sweet mixture filling her mouth. She melted into the taste with a quiet moan of delight.

“This is magnificent,” she said. “Hunk, truly you are a culinary genius.”

Hunk colored at the ears, putting another batch of pink cupcakes into the oven as he added sugar to his orange frosting. “Yeah, well, my mom and aunt taught me how to cook, so they really deserve all of the credit.”

“I will be sure to give them my thanks,” Allura promised. She paused, taking another bite of the cupcake and savoring every bit of it. “Might I ask,” she started with her mouth full and then flushed, swallowing quickly. “Might I ask,” she said again. “Why are you making so many?”

“They’re for Keith,” Hunk said. “I-I asked Shiro what kind of sweets Keith likes the most, b-because sweets always make me feel better so maybe they’d help Keith too. He said cupcakes, but like...a really specific kind.”

“And what _is_ Keith’s very specific cupcake?” Allura turned to Shiro, curious to see exactly what Keith liked that tasted _this_ good.

“Red velvet cupcakes with cream cheese frosting,” Shiro said without skipping a beat. “He used to make them for himself all the time back on Earth, because my cooking skills are… nonexistent.” He laughed, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “Hunk asked me to stick around and taste-test for him, since I’m the only one who's had Keith’s red velvet cupcakes.”

“Who knew red-velvet was _pink_ up here,” Hunk muttered. “And cream cheese frosting is _orange._ It looks awful together, but it tastes all right.”

“It tastes _magnificent,”_ Allura took the final bite of the cupcake, melting into the sweetness of it.

“Have another, if you’d like,” Hunk said. “I’ve got plenty of extras.”

Allura did so gratefully, passing one to Shiro as she did so. He smiled gratefully, watching Hunk cook.

“It is… kind of you to think of Keith’s wellbeing,” Allura said quietly.

“Well, how could I think of anything else?” Hunk laughed without humor. “He’s in a pod, he’s gonna come out with scars and a prosthetic arm. I just… I want him to feel safe, you know? And maybe being surrounded by something that familiar and reminds him of good times will help.”

“I think it will,” Shiro said. “And I want to help, too. In whatever way I can.” He scooped a bit of frosting off of the top with his finger and stuck it in his mouth. “I _will_ help him,” he said. “Keith won’t suffer through this alone.”

Allura did the same as Shiro and was quite surprised when she discovered that she quite enjoyed the flavors _together_ rather than _separate._ “I agree,” she said. “There is nothing that Keith will have to work through alone.”

It was a discombobulated conversation, discussing a traumatized boy over the cupcakes he loved the most, but Allura found herself content. She knew that, in due time, Keith would be with them in this kitchen, eating with them. Perhaps even instructing Hunk on how to make them, or even cooking with him.

The thought was peaceful.

Allura wanted it more than anything.

She took another bite of her cupcake as Hunk pulled out a fresh batch of cupcakes. He blew on them for a moment and set them on the stove, waiting for them to cool properly. He pulled his oven mitts off and began to put the frosting through a nozzle. Once the cupcakes had cooled off, he began gently swirling it over the cupcake, covering it in a fine layer of orange.

He did only one cupcake before sliding it across the table to Shiro. Shiro picked it up and blew on it a little before taking a bite.

“Well?” Hunk asked.

Shiro’s grin was huge. He had orange frosting on his upper lip. “It’s perfect.”

Hunk was so very proud of himself.

“Good,” he said happily. “We’ll feed Keith these when he gets out of the pod.”

“Yeah,” Shiro said. “I think something that reminds him of home, that gets his mind off of everything he’s been through for a moment...will help a lot.”

Hunk looked down at the cupcake in Shiro’s hand. “I hope so."

“I know so,” Shiro countered. “And maybe even we can talk him through some of the things he’s been through over these. Things are always easier to discuss when you have something to help keep you grounded.”

Allura knew Shiro was speaking from experience. She was glad beyond reason that her Paladins were coming together to help Keith go through what he’d experienced. He would never be alone. Things were starting to look up, feel better.

And they could all certainly use a little ‘better’ right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A whole bunch of recovery <3
> 
> Keith is still in the pod, but that doesn't mean that I can't get some recovery in with the other paladins! I got some platonic Plance in, along with cupcakes! I've always headcanoned that Keith would really like something made of red velvet, and cupcakes ended up being what happened. This chapter turned into something so very nice to write, which was a relief after the emotionally-exhaustive week I've had. Things are a bit rough right now.
> 
> Next chapter we jump right back into the angst :) 
> 
> I really hope you enjoyed this! All of your support, your love, and your comments as I go through this journey is really what keeps me going. You all are wonderful, so truly, thank you for inspiring me to keep this story going. If you liked the chapter, leave me a comment to let me know with your favorite part of the chapter/story so far, and even theories! Or at the very least, just drop a kudos, I'm not picky :) 
> 
> See you all next Saturday! <3


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are some things that the pods cannot heal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't beta read, so all mistakes are on me. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Ozone scented the room. Purple lightning arched off of the high columns. Haggar stood over a table, her hands poised over a prone body wearing Galra armor. A long, dark burn scar marred half of the face, burning away at the lip and chasing its way underneath the high collar. The skin had been torn away, frayed through to the point where sharpened fangs were visible in between strips of skin. 

Another burst of magic lit the room up purple. 

The body convulsed on the table. The back arched, mouth falling open in a silent scream. The eyes remained closed, the expression still slack. 

Lotor observed silently from the sidelines as Haggar worked her magic. As much as he hated the witch, he was interested to see where she was going with her current experiment. 

After all… Keith had been such a  _ wonderful  _ specimen. The loss of such an enticing prisoner had certainly taken its toll upon the Empire, and not just from the loss of one of their ships. They’d nearly lost a capable commander, too. 

One that would be reborn with a thirst for revenge. 

“Live,” Haggar hissed across the room. “ _ Live.”  _

The body twitched again. The lightning faded from the room. 

A finger moved. Then another. The destroyed lips began to move, pain sparking across the body’s expression. Purple blood bubbled from in between the strips of frayed skin over his mouth. 

And Laynek opened his eyes. 

 

The Castle was busier than Hunk had ever seen it the following afternoon. 

Keith would be getting out of his pod at any minute. Shiro was pacing in circles, holding a fuzzy red blanket tight to his chest while Allura and Coran made last minute preparations to ensure Keith would be coming out fully healed. Lance and Pidge ran to and from the infirmary with different articles of clothing they’d scrounged up from Keith’s bedroom. They had no idea what he’d want to wear when he came out, so the two of them were taking everything they could carry from his closet and teetering it over. 

Hunk (who was surprised to learn Keith had more than one outfit) had been trying to organize all the clothing into neat piles. Except for his shoes. Keith appeared only to have one pair - the white boots he wore literally everywhere. 

Lance came sprinting out of the room, holding a pile of precariously perched hoodies and assorted shirts. He dumped them on the table next to Keith’s bayard that Matt had returned and jogged in place, glancing at the pod. 

“How much longer?” 

“Any minute now,” Coran responded. He tapped away at his tablet while Allura scurried off to grab her own tablet. Shiro tensed at the words and began to unfold the blanket in his arms. Lance went to go help Pidge, who came staggering in with a pile of sweatpants. 

They’d barely dumped them over the rest of the pants before the pod released a quiet hiss. Steam erupted from the bottom as the hydraulics released and the glass in front began to melt away. 

Shiro stepped forward as Keith fell forward out of the pod. He wrapped the blanket tightly around Keith's shoulders, pulling the smaller frame into him. A puff of cold air left Keith’s lips as he opened his eyes.

Hunk was the first one to meet his tired amethyst gaze. He blinked once - slowly - and shifted in Shiro’s embrace. 

Allura came back in the room, her tablet in hand. She placed it next to the piles of clothes and Keith looked at it, taking in the situation slowly. 

“What’s… going on?” He said. A shudder wracked his body. He was  _ freezing. _ An unwanted side effect of the cryopods. Shiro began rubbing his back, trying to get him to warm up. 

“Welcome back to the land of the living, my man,” Lance said. He was grinning, trying to lighten the mood. Keith didn’t respond. His gaze was too busy flicking from person to person; from thing to thing. Trying to keep everything in his line of sight. Anything -  _ anything  _ \- could hurt him. Something could blindside him, hit him before he had the chance to strike back. It could dig a knife in between his ribs, sink a bullet into his shoulder-

Keith’s thoughts stuttered to a halt. He found the pile. 

_ What on Earth…?  _

“Are those… my clothes?” He said, baffled. 

Hunk smiled sheepishly, moving aside a mountain of shirts that all looked exactly the same. “Yeah,” he said. “We weren’t sure what you’d want to wear after you got out of the pod so…” 

Keith’s gaze drew itself towards a  _ very  _ comforting-looking red hoodie and nodded silently. He wormed his way out of Shiro’s hug and took a few unsteady steps toward the clothes. He reached out carefully, first with his right and then quickly thought better of it. He pulled his hand away, before anyone could see the metal fingers that had hesitantly reached for a shirt, and moved with his left instead. 

“Let me help,” Shiro said softly. He was by Keith’s side in an instant, picking up the hoodie Keith had been looking to grab along with one of the many gray shirts and a pair of plain sweatpants. He glanced around at the assembled Paladins and gave them a tired smile. “I’m going to get Keith dressed,” he said. “Maybe he’ll be willing to take a shower, too. You all clean up in here.” 

Everyone bobbed their heads in agreement. Keith tried not to feel hurt by how Shiro was talking. It was like he wasn’t even there. Like he really had been left on that Galra ship to die and he was just a ghost - a spectator on a grieving family. 

Shiro placed his hand gently on the small of Keith’s back and steered him towards the exit. It was his flesh hand, Keith realized, Shiro’s prosthetic cradling the clothes. 

“Erm,” Coran spoke up from behind them. Both Keith and Shiro turned their heads to look at him. He was jogging toward them, a roll of bandages in his hand. “Allow me to accompany you, if I may. There are some...  _ unpleasant  _ after-effects of the pod that I think would be better off covered.” 

The implications of what Coran was saying did not bode well in Keith’s stomach. He certainly didn’t miss the way Pidge, Lance, and Hunk’s eyes all flickered toward his remaining flesh arm. 

“Okay,” Keith said quietly. He didn’t want to say ‘no’ to Coran, especially not after what they had shared before he had gotten into the pod. His throat still felt raw. 

“We’ll meet you in the kitchen!” Hunk said brightly. “You’re probably starved, right Keith? We’ll get you something to eat! It’s nearly lunchtime, anyway.” 

Keith nodded. All though he hadn’t been fed at all at on the Galra ship and had been fed the bare minimum to keep him alive with Matt and his team, he didn’t feel hungry now. He felt sick at the very thought. But he knew that he would just worry them more if he didn’t eat. 

So, instead, he just nodded his head. “Okay.” 

The walk down the hallway was silent. Keith’s feet were cold as he stumbled a little. He was sandwiched between Shiro and Coran, who stood like vigils; constant wards, both protective and loving. 

_ You don’t deserve this,  _ a voice in the back of his mind seethed. A voice that sounded suspiciously like Laynek’s.  _ You are weak. You are  _ nothing. _You are_ _ a burden. _

Keith shivered, another chill from the cryopod chasing up his skin. He tried not to think of that table and instead focused on the one thing he knew for certain: 

Laynek was dead. 

The only place he’d be haunting now was Keith’s dreams. 

Somehow, the thought didn’t make him feel any better. 

Shiro paused outside of Keith’s bedroom door. It slid open with a quiet hiss and Keith felt his throat tighten. 

It was his room, exactly the way he left it. His bed was made, his knife was on the desk, the room bare of any personal effects. His closet doors were thrown open (likely the work of Lance and Pidge) and clothes were spilling out onto the floor. 

Shiro clicked his tongue as he guided Keith into the room.  “Those two…” He was smiling fondly, still, as Keith sat gingerly on the bed. The mattress sank under his weight. 

“All right, let’s get you out of that dirty cryosuit,” Coran said, chipper as ever. He did not make a move to do it himself, for which Keith was grateful. He slowly slid the blanket off of his shoulders and let it pool around his waist in a fuzzy lump. 

“Can you…?” Keith’s cheeks colored. Shiro, picking up on Keith’s unspoken wishes, gently steered Coran away to help him start picking up the mess. Keith began reaching for the blood-stained left arm of the suit and peeled it off. He made a point of not looking at the metal fingers as he did so, staring pointedly at his shoulder instead. 

It became apparent, though, that there was something very _wrong_ with his shoulder. 

There was a circular pink mark on his skin, exactly where the bullet had hit him during his escape. Discolored and a stark contrast to what his skin had looked like prior. But that wasn’t the biggest of his concerns. There was another scar there - thick and puffy and reminiscent of the one he’d gained during the Marmora Trials, but this one was different. 

It was made by Laynek’s claws. 

Keith’s breath quickened. 

He pushed the sleeve down, metal fingers cool against his skin. Everywhere where Laynek had mangled his arm had scarred over. Bright pink and twisted in spirals circling under and around. It was jagged, like the claws that had torn it apart, mottled with pinks and browns all laced together like veins. 

It was  _ horrible.  _

Without meaning to, Keith cried out, strangled and raspy. The world faded around him. All he could see were  _ the scars, the scars, the scars.  _

And suddenly he was back on that table, with Laynek towering over him. Keith’s arm was in his hands, tearing it into pieces, yanking strips of skin out of the way of his claws. They fluttered to the floor like ribbons. 

_ Were you proud of this wound, Prisoner?  _ He taunted.  _ Did you think it was a symbol of your strength?  _

There was a voice calling his name. But Laynek was the only one there. His yellow eyes leered over Keith, lips drawn into a fang-filled grin. Keith screamed, intense pain wracking his entire body and-

“Keith!” 

Keith was pulled back from the brink of panic by a familiar voice. One that he trusted, that had saved him so many times in the past. 

“Sh...iro?” he croaked. 

“Yeah, it’s me, buddy,” Shiro breathed. “It’s me.” 

His surroundings came back into focus. He saw his bed, his knife, and Shiro and Coran’s faces inches from his own. 

Laynek was not here.

_ Laynek was dead.  _

Keith’s metal hand drew fistfuls of his sheets in his hands. “Shiro,” he said again. 

“I’m here,” Shiro’s arms moved slowly, carefully. Every movement laid bare for Keith to see. He tentatively wrapped his arms around Keith, pulling him into an embrace.

“Shiro,” Keith sobbed. Tears pricked at his eyes. His arms drew themselves around Shiro and he buried his face into his chest. “Shiro,” he said again, unable to say anything else. 

“I’m here,” Shiro said. “I’m here.” 

Coran’s face darkened as he gently drew Keith’s scarred arm away from Shiro. Keith lifted his head to fix a watery gaze upon Coran. He couldn’t look at his arm. He knew what it represented now. Another trophy of his time with the Galra. Another permanent reminder. 

First his right arm, then his left? 

What more could the Galra take? 

They’d stripped Keith bare, taken everything he was and then taken that, too. Torn him down to his most vulnerable and then kept digging. Ripping him apart piece by piece until he was nothing but a husk of the boy who had once been Keith Kogane. 

“I was afraid of something like this,” Coran hummed. He picked up the bandages he’d left on Keith’s bedside table and placed the frayed end against Keith’s wrist. Slowly, he began to wrap up his arm, covering the grotesque scars in white. 

“I’m sorry,” Keith said. He gripped Shiro’s shirt with his metal fingers. “I’m so sorry.” 

“You have nothing to apologize for, lad,” Coran said, angling Keith’s elbow to better wrap it in bandages. “You have been through much. Most of which we know nothing about. Don’t apologize for something out of your control.” 

“Sorry,” Keith whispered despite himself. Shiro’s grip tightened around his shoulders. 

Coran gave Keith a careful smile as he snipped off the bandages around Keith’s shoulders and taped them carefully to his skin. The gauze was scratchy, but Keith could only feel it in the bits of skin he knew were not scarred. His stomach plummeted.  He now had hardly any feeling in his right arm. 

“Would you like me to wrap up your other arm, as well?” Coran whispered. Keith thought of Shiro and his own prosthetic he held proudly on display every single day. 

“No,” he whispered. Coran nodded and did not press any further. 

“I’m going to help you out of the suit if that’s okay,” Shiro said. He moved slowly away from Keith (who nearly whimpered at the loss of the supporting figure that was his brother) and picked up the grey shirt he’d taken from the pile in the infirmary. 

He helped Keith step gingerly out of the cryosuit and into a pair of plain boxers. Coran picked up the fallen suit and crossed the room in three strides to put it down the laundry suit. As the blood-stained sleeves slid out of sight, Keith pulled on his sweatpants, shirt, and hoodie, wrapping himself in the warmth. 

Shiro smiled a little. “You look comfortable.” Keith nodded, hugging himself around the middle. His stomach growled pitifully. “Let’s get you something to eat,” Shiro said, slinging an arm carefully over Keith’s shoulders. “Hunk and I made cupcakes last night.” 

Keith perked up. “Red velvet?” 

“With cream cheese frosting.” 

Coran smiled as Shiro led Keith out of the room. 

They’d taken two steps back and one step forward with Keith’s recovery today. The sight of his mottled arm had clearly taken a lot from him and yet, there was still progress. He knew the scars were there. It was one step closer to accepting their existence and letting them become a part of him. 

The road would be long, but Coran knew that Keith’s family would be there for him every step of the way. 

 

The kitchen smelled like soup. 

Keith wandered in with Shiro, looking over at the stove. Hunk hovered over it, using a ladle to shovel spoonfuls of what looked like beef stew into bowls. Granted, the sauce was maroon and the beef was white, but it still smelled like it should. 

Shiro took a deep dramatic whiff of the air as if to prove Keith’s mental point. “Smells great, Hunk. Good job.” 

Hunk turned over his shoulder to grin at them. “Thanks, Shiro.” His gaze landed upon Keith and his expression softened. “You hungry?”

Keith nodded silently and Hunk picked up a bowl. It was filled with almost an insultingly little amount of soup and Keith’s stomach grumbled. 

“Sorry,” Hunk took one look at the expression on Keith’s face and immediately looked guilty. “But it’s not good for your stomach to eat a lot after you’ve been…” he paused, searching for the words. “Starved. You gotta eat gradually so your body has time to recover and remember how to digest stuff. So we’re gonna start with something liquidy - like stew.” 

“And besides,” Shiro poked at a white piece of beef bobbing in the stew. “It’s got protein. That’ll help.” 

Keith looked down at the stew and swallowed down a complaint. He knew it was for his own good and after all, he had been served less before. Picking up the spoon, Keith dipped it in the broth and raised it hesitantly to his lips. It went down without complaint, a symphony of flavors exploding in Keith’s mouth. 

“It’s good,” he said softly. He looked up to meet Hunk’s gaze. “Thanks, Hunk.” 

Hunk beamed. “Of course! I’m going to go get the others so we can all eat together.” 

“We’ll be here,” Shiro promised. Hunk nodded and practically bounced out of the room. 

Keith took another bite. Shiro moved a bit closer to brush his arm very carefully against Keith’s own. 

“How are you feeling?” He asked, his voice soft. 

Keith paused, putting the spoon down from where he lifted it to his lips. He messed with something that was  _ probably  _ supposed to be a carrot and frowned. He couldn’t very well say  _ I’m fine  _ and move on. It’d be lying. Keith was obviously _not_ okay; he could barely _dress_ himself on his own. 

Hot shame crept up Keith’s cheeks at the memory. His grip tightened on the spoon. 

Shiro’s expression fell. “I figured… but hey, you know what? You’re not alone. Just like you were for me during my PTSD attacks, I’ll be there for yours, okay?” 

“Okay,” Keith whispered. 

“And not just me,” Shiro said. “Don’t be afraid to go to the others, too. I know trusting is hard, but they’re worried about you.” He gently bumped Keith with his shoulder and Keith couldn’t help the way he tensed. “It’s not you against the world anymore.” 

Keith didn’t answer for a while. 

_ It’s not you against the world anymore.  _

He remembered Lance’s worried expression when he came out of the pod. Pidge’s little step forward like she wanted to run to embrace him. Hunk’s overwhelming kindness, to think of Keith’s needs above his own. Coran wrapping away the scars so he didn’t have to look at them. Allura sending them to a secure spot in the universe so Keith could recover in peace. 

Keith had so many walls built up over the years of abuse and neglect that he had suffered that he’d forgotten what it felt like to be appreciated. To give love and receive love in return. 

Shiro was right. He was  _ more  _ than right. The others were there for him. They wouldn’t let him work through the demons he’d faced and conquered on his own. 

All Keith had to do was open the door. 

“I know,” Keith said quietly. He turned to face Shiro, a gentle smile toying at his lips. “ _I know.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The recovery is finally underway! And with that, I've got some business to get out of the way first. 
> 
> To Change the Sun is practically finished at this point. Most of the chapters have been written (not edited, though) and it's evened out to about forty chapters. Maybe more, if there are a few more plot points I want to add. And, I want to let you guys know that I have started working on another project!! It's set in an AU and is a genre I haven't really tackled before, but I'm excited! 
> 
> But, I don't want to give too much away, especially with Sun still in progress. I'll give more details towards the end of the book! 
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter!! Sorry I posted so late, some things got in the way and then suddenly my day was super hectic and I couldn't post the chapter until I got home. Regardless, it's here! 
> 
> As always, leave a comment/kudos if you liked it! I'd love to hear your thoughts or your theories. It makes my day when I get stuff like that!! 
> 
> Next time Sun will update, season 8 will have dropped, so let's all scream about it next week, shall we? :D (we're gonna die)
> 
> I'll see you all next Saturday! <3


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guilt is a powerful demon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't beta-read, so all mistakes are on me. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Allura rolled her shoulders as she gazed out over the Servian System. The star Matt had mentioned was enormous, even from quite the distance away. It was expanding, reaching the end of its lifespan. The light was bright, but dull enough so Allura wasn’t blinded by its mere presence.

It was both magnificent and very sad. Civilizations would be lost as soon as this sun exploded, hundreds of people either displaced or dead. She wondered in the galaxy in which Altea used to reside in had lost its sun.

She checked one more time to make sure that the only thing coming in and out of their communications was static and turned to leave.

She was surprised to see Lance standing at the door.

He gave her a small, tentative smile, his hand resting on the doorframe. His gaze flickered out at the magnificent, burning sun, and then back at her.

“We’re here, then?” Lance asked.

Allura hummed an affirmation. It was not unlike Lance to seek her out specifically, but it was odd that he looked so somber. Normally he was grinning cheesily, a pick-up line or a pun quick upon his lips. But now he looked subdued; a hunched over version of himself.

“Is… everything okay, Lance?” Allura asked.

Lance looked at her and then back at the sun. His lips pursed. He muttered something in that strange language he sometimes slipped into (the other Paladins informed her it was called ‘Spanish’) and crossed his arms. His shoulder bumped gently into the doorframe as he leaned his weight against it. One leg draped over the other.

“Do you feel like maybe we could have done _more?”_ He asked.

“I’m not sure I understand your meaning,” Allura said.

“I’m talking about the rescue,” Lance said. “We didn’t even save Keith. It was the resistance. We’re supposed to be the universe’s greatest weapon and we can’t even rescue our own teammate when the Galra have him. This whole time we’ve been relying on _someone else.”_ His tone was bitter. Coarse, like sand. Rough.

Allura saw his point. After all, she’d also had been so determined to save Keith from the Galra. They’d formulated a plan for it all to crumble into dust in their hands. The relied on the coalition and their elite teams rather than being able to go in on their own. It wasn’t inherently their fault, either. They would not be able to get to Keith in time, Allura was sure. He would not have been able to hold up to the brutality of the Galra much longer from what she had seen of his injuries. His body would bend, it would break, and Keith would be no more.

Of that, Allura was certain.

But she understood Lance’s frustration. She saw how being so utterly helpless in their teammate’s - their _brother’s_ \- own rescue made Lance feel powerless.

After all, it was what she felt.

They could have done more, done _better._ Fought harder, gone faster, worked more. There were so many ‘what if’s in this situation that there was no helping the guilt that would inevitably come with everything else.

Allura looked back at Lance. His gaze was now trained firmly on the star in the distance. He was biting his lip.

“I think so,” she said softly. Lance’s eyes jumped to her. “I think there was much we could have done but this is the way that things have turned out. And in ways… I think this is better.”

“How?” Lance was so _angry._ “ _How_ is this better? Keith is… he’s…” He hunched in on himself. “He has _scars,_ Allura. And not just from his injuries, he’s so _quiet._ He’s not Keith anymore, he’s someone else. It’s _our_ fault. We weren’t there. We weren’t fast enough.” His paused. His blue eyes were wet. “And it’s my fault because I thought he could handle it.”

“Lance-”

Lance huffed, wiping his eyes with the back of his hands. “Should’ve known,” he muttered, barely audible over the hum of the Castle’s systems.

“Lance, it’s not your fault,” Allura said firmly, glad that they were finally reaching the root of Lance’s frustrations. She knew the fact that they were not the ones who had saved Keith was definitely a factor but wasn’t the defining issue.

“Yes, it is,” Lance said. “Pidge thinks it's her’s, too. Maybe it’s both of ours. Because we were stupid enough to think that Keith was limitless. That he could handle everything that came his way.”

“Well, he certainly _came_ off like that-” Allura stopped herself before she could finish. _Came._ The past-tense of the word scared her. Keith was no longer like that. He was frail, quiet. His spark had gone out, dulled just like the dying sun at her back.

Lance growled in that strange language - _Spanish,_ Allura reminded herself - and kicked the door frame. “Yeah. So we screwed up. It’s our fault Keith is like this.”

“Lance,” Allura said softly but firmly. She had to get her point across. “Keith is not ‘like this’ because of you and Pidge. He is merely scared and needs support getting back to who he once was. He is not _gone.”_ She said it more to comfort herself than Lance. To remind herself that the spark wasn’t gone. Not forever. Keith would go back to _coming_ off like he was unstoppable. Because that was Keith. That was who he was.

“Yeah, well,” Lance said, his voice hard. “It sure _feels_ like that.”

Allura sighed. “I don’t think I can help you with this, Lance. I believe you and Pidge need to confront Keith about it directly. He’s the only one who can give you peace.”

Lance looked away. He was quiet for a moment. Thoughtful, introspective. Then, he looked back at her. He understood what he was to do if he ever wanted to be free of the guilt. He understood what Pidge had to do, too.

“I’ll try,” he said quietly.

And that was enough for Allura.

 

Hunk wouldn’t let Keith have another bowl of soup.

Keith made a face as Hunk put the bowl the Altean version of a dishwasher. He desperately wanted more. In fact, it was more like his stomach _demanded_ more. Deprived of food for so long, he was near ravenous. But he knew Hunk was right; too much food on his practically shriveled stomach could do more harm than good at this point. It still didn’t change the fact that Keith was hungry.

Then Shiro set his hand carefully on Keith’s shoulder - the one with the prosthetically almost _lovingly_ molded to his flesh - and smiled. He offered a shower, one that Keith had been deprived of for eight days. Keith followed Shiro up towards the living quarters and paused outside the bathroom door.

He glanced down at the bandages down that covered the scars and Keith swore he felt a presence behind him. Large and leering, like if he turned his head then Laynek would be looming behind him but when Keith whipped his head around to look, there was no one there.

Shiro gave him a sympathetic smile. “Will the clothes you’re wearing now work or should I get you fresh ones?”

Keith - who was very content to stay in his red hoodie - shook his head, tucking his hands into his pockets. He found himself unconsciously messing with the fingers of his right arm. It felt detached; like he could pull on the metal and feel no pain. He wouldn’t be surprised if it were true.

“Are…” he spoke and was once again surprised at how quiet he was. How hoarse he sounded. “Are the bandages waterproof?”

He didn’t want to take them off. He didn’t want to look at the horrible ringed scars again. He wanted to forget they even existed.

Shiro nodded. “They should be, and if they aren’t, I’ll keep your arm outside of the shower for you so you don’t have to look. Okay?” Keith looked down. Shiro was being so kind to him, even after all the trouble he was causing. If he were still in the foster system, he’d be slapped, he’d be punished for making so many problems.

Keith jolted.

He wasn’t sure why he was thinking about _that._ He hadn’t remembered the horrors of that system in years. What was the point of bringing up old trauma now?

“Come on, buddy,” Shiro held the door open. “Let’s get all the gross stuff off, okay?”

“Okay,” Keith said.

He took a few tentative steps into the bathroom. It was quiet, the faint dripping of water coming from one of the stalls. One of the other Paladins - likely Pidge or Lance - had taken a shower here recently.

“I’ll go grab your shampoo and stuff from your room,” Shiro said. It wasn’t an offer. “You get into the shower.”

“Okay,” Keith said again.

Shiro smiled and left the room and for the first time since Keith had been rescued, he was left alone.

Keith looked around him. The bathroom had always been big, but never before had it been imposing in the way it was now. Too empty, too big. Something could creep up on him here.

 _No,_ Keith drew in a deep breath through his nose. _No, nothing is going to sneak up on me here. I’m okay. I’m safe._

He reached carefully to pull the hoodie and his shirt over his head in one tug. He let it fall to the floor and paused to glance at himself in the mirror.

But the boy looking back at him through the glass… it wasn’t Keith. It couldn’t have been. This boy was tired with dark bags like bruises under his eyes and bandages wreathed around his left arm. He didn't even want to look at his right, knowing there was only trauma and metal waiting for him there. His hair was disheveled, greasy. Amethyst eyes - ones he inherited from his mother - stared back at him. He was sallow and thin, cheeks sunken and his ribs prominent.

This boy was not Keith.

It could not have been.

But it was.

Keith wrapped his arms around his middle. His bandages brushed against his abdomen. He remembered the knife buried there, the pain of Haggar healing the wound. He remembered the table, the one where he’d been mercilessly tortured on time and time again. He’d never be able to rid himself of these memories. They’d be there for the rest of his life.

The thin, puckered scars on Keith’s back pulled as he hunched over himself. He stared wide-eyed at the floor, gaze unseeing. He felt so _wrong._ The boy in the mirror… it was not him. It couldn’t have been.

He didn’t hear the door hiss open. He didn’t hear Shiro set his things down on the floor and turn towards him. He didn’t hear Shiro call his name. He only became aware of his presence after Shiro pulled him into him. He hid Keith’s face in his shoulder and Keith trembled.

“That’s not _me,”_ he heard himself say. “That’s _not me.”_

Shiro did not reply. His hand cupped the back of Keith’s head.

“That’s not me,” Keith said again.

Shiro’s fingers ghosted over the scars on Keith’s back. He startled, knowing those hadn’t been there before his capture. He ran circles over one, the raised skin rising and falling under the pad of this thumb. They were so small but they spoke volumes about what Keith had been through. He looked down at the frail body clinging to him, face pressed into his shirt. Keith didn’t want to see the world. Shiro understood why probably better than anyone.

“I know this is hard,” Shiro whispered. “And it will keep being hard… but I’m here for you. The team is here for you.”

“That’s not me,” was Keith’s response. Shiro began tracing circles into Keith’s scalp to help calm him, turning his head to look at the mirror. Then, he understood. He knew what had caused Keith such distress.

He’d seen himself in the mirror.

“Oh _Keith,”_ he whispered. He knew what Keith was going through. He’d experienced it himself, after all. He’d gazed into the mirror but the person looking back wasn’t the person he remembered. He didn’t think he ever had dealt with it. Just accepted that things were different than how they used to be. But that wouldn’t do, not with Keith.

Keith shook, his whole body wracked with vicious tremors. He gripped Shiro’s shirt like it was his lifeline. The scars on his back pulled and twisted.

Shiro’s heart wrenched.

“I know it’s weird,” he whispered, not really sure of what he was saying. “I know this is hard for you, but… that person in the mirror is still-”

“No it’s _not!”_ Keith said in a high-pitched cry. “It’s _not me!_ I don’t look like that, I don’t-” He paused. His body was wracked with sobs. “I don’t look so… so _broken.”_ Shiro clicked his tongue softly, pressing his cheek into the top of Keith’s hair. It was greasy, but Shiro didn’t care.

“This is going to be hard,” he said. “I won’t lie to you. Getting through this will be the biggest challenge you will ever face. But just because you look different doesn’t mean you _are.”_

“You don’t _understand,”_ Keith cried. “Lotor was _right,_ I’m just some half-breed who thought he was strong. I should have realized it before I fought him-”

Shiro felt like he had been doused in ice water. “What?”

“He challenged me to a duel,” Keith sobbed. “I thought I won. I thought I beat him but-” He remembered the flash of Lotor’s foot in motion, the pain of landing on his burned back. “But I was _wrong._ He beat me because I was weak enough to think I was strong.”

Shiro bristled. That _bastard._ He’d challenged Keith to a duel knowing he wouldn’t refuse. He had beaten Keith, cut him down and blamed it on Keith’s strength. The idea that he could do anything if he set his mind to it. It was the mindset that Shiro had instilled in Keith many years ago and Lotor had torn it away without a second thought.

“You aren’t weak,” Shiro said. “No one can go through what you did and still say they’re weak. You’ve survived so _much_ Keith-”

“He _beat_ me-”

“Were you injured?” Shiro asked.

That got Keith to pause. He was silent for a moment, deliberating. That was somehow more telling than the actual words themselves.

“Yes,” Keith whispered.

“With?”

Keith shivered. He shut his eyes. He didn't want to remember the table. The freezing and the chilling, the endless cycle of blisters and gore that had been inflicted upon him. But he also knew - from Shiro talking in hurried whispers about nightmares late in the night - that keeping it in would be worse.

“Burns,” he whispered. His back ached in remembrance. “The… the table I was…” He swallowed, shutting his eyes. He could hardly put his words together. “It changed temperature. Burned and froze my back over and over. H-Haggar healed it with one of her potions but Lotor challenged me… while it was still burnt…”

Shiro’s thumb brushed against one of the scars. “That’s where…”

Keith made a miserable ‘mhm’ noise. High-pitched and almost whiny. Hot tears stung his eyes.

Shiro tightened his grip around Keith. “Lotor did that on purpose, you know.” 

Keith tensed. “What?”

“He wanted to break you,” Shiro said. “So he challenged you to a duel he knew he’d win.” Keith only seemed more distraught by the news.

“So that means I really am weak,” he cried. “I-I fell for it I-”

“No, Keith,” Shiro said. “I don’t think anyone could have won that fight under your circumstances. Not me, not Allura, not Lance, not anybody.”

“But-”

“Did he hurt you before you dueled?” Shiro felt awful probing information out of Keith like this, but he had to know. He had to understand to help Keith realize that losing the duel wasn’t something that made him weak. If anything, accepting the duel despite his injured state could have proven his unstoppable drive more than anything.

“Yes,” Keith said, barely above a whisper. Shiro gritted his teeth, mentally vowing to punch Lotor in the jaw if he ever saw him again. “He… used his fingers and-” Keith shivered. “And pinched a hole into-into my arm.”

“Oh, _Keith,”_ said Shiro. Keith trembled. Shiro must have thought even less of him now. Taking an impossible duel while injured. Only someone weak and in need of validation of their own faulty skills would do that.

“Why did I do that?” He sobbed. “Why did I think that was a good idea?!”

“Because that’s just who you are,” Shiro whispered.

“But-”

“Listen to me,” Shiro said. “You are not _weak,_ okay? Losing the duel isn’t a show of your strength and neither was accepting it.”

Keith paused. He sniffled, tears dripping off of his chin and wetting Shiro's shoulders. He tried to remember the terms of the duel to begin with; what had made Keith agree to something he would inevitably lose.

“He said I could get out if I won,” Keith said in-between sobs. “H-He said I’d get to get back to you guys if I won. I’d get to go _home.”_  

Shiro’s heart wrenched. “You wanted to go home… to come back to us?”

“The whole time,” Keith agreed.

Shiro cradled Keith closer to his chest. He felt sick with anger. Keith had been through so much. Far more than he should have ever experienced. He had been torn down to his rawest and most vulnerable within the span of eight days. It was quite possibly the worst thing Shiro had ever seen.

“I want you to listen to me, Keith,” Shiro said softly. “Okay? Losing that duel is not your fault. Lotor knew that no one could be able to win against him if they were injured. He used that against you, so don’t you dare think that anything that happened there was because of you. It was Lotor trying to break you."

“So that means-”

“No, it doesn’t mean you’re weak,” Shiro said firmly. He remembered the transmission Lotor had made with them to discuss terms. He hardly wanted to bring it up with Keith but knew it was a necessary evil to help Keith power through. “You made an escape attempt, right? That’s why you lost your arm. Was that… before or after the duel?”

Keith flinched. Clearly, the escape attempt was a whole new can of traumatized worms to open at a later time, but not right now. Keith was doing so well at the moment and Shiro didn’t want to push it.

“After,” Keith said. “And I-”

“No,” Shiro said before Keith could call himself 'weak' again. “You did everything you could, Keith. Lotor wanted this from you. He wanted you to feel this way and it is _not_ your fault. You are one of the strongest people I know. Not many people can look life in the eye and keep going after it kicks them down time and time again. You said yes to a duel in spite of being injured because you _knew_ there was a chance you’d get to come back home. You took that chance. That was so, _so_ brave, Keith. I’m so proud of you.”

“But-” Keith scrambled for something to say. This felt wrong. Everything about Shiro’s praise felt unwarranted. He’d done nothing. He’d accepted a losing duel and had paid the price for his arrogance. “I was stupid, I-”

“You were scared,” Shiro corrected. “And still you made the bravest decision. That’s incredible, Keith.” 

Keith broke down into sobs again. Shiro’s words touched him deeply. They had started to stitch the broken pieces of him back together again. His own words called into his head, a ghost of determination and protective instincts washing through him. 

_ “Paladin. I like the sound of that.”  _

Red purred, brushing against his mind once again. She seemingly agreed with Shiro, filling Keith with the warmest feeling of love and belonging he’d ever had the privilege to feel. He sobbed harder.  Shiro held him as he cried. His brother to the end, Shiro would not abandon Keith. Not in his greatest time of need. He was right there. He always would be. 

Shiro’s shirt was wet when Keith finally pulled away. He sniffed miserably, eyes red and puffy. He still looked sallow and sunken, tired beyond anything he’d ever felt, but it was  _ him.  _ It was him because he’d made the brave decisions in spite of fear. It didn’t matter what he looked like, he was still Keith. A boy who would spend lifetimes pulling himself back together and would succeed. 

There was still so much trauma, so much unspoken. There were things that would never truly fade. But Keith was no longer afraid of them. He was going to face them. 

And one day, he’d be able to accept the scars molded to his flesh as a part of him. 

_ One day.  _

Keith pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. He flinched away from the cold metal of his arm, but refused to fear it anymore. It was as much a part of him as the memories were. He’d just have to learn to accept it. He looked up, a newfound determination in his gaze.

Shiro smiled sadly at Keith from where he knelt a few feet away. “How about that shower?” 

Keith laughed watery. It was a beautiful sound, filling the room with a symphony that sang with relief as some of the tension on Keith’s shoulders began to leave. 

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll hop in.” 

Shiro smiled. 

 

Pidge was sitting with Hunk in the Green Lion’s hangar when the door hissed open. They both spun around (even Green seemed startled by the sudden entrance) to see Allura standing by the door. She was moving with purpose, kaleidoscope eyes bright with determination. Pidge felt somewhat wary of what her mission was. 

“Allura…?” She asked carefully. 

“Pidge, Hunk,” Allura said. “I need you all to help me gather the rest of the Paladins - even Keith. There is something of the utmost importance we must discuss. Together.” 

“Uh,” Pidge exchanged a look with Hunk. “Okay…?” 

“Thank you,” Allura gave Pidge a smile and left the room as promptly as she had entered it. Hunk and Pidge exchanged absolutely bemused glances before following her. Hunk dusted off his pants as he walked. 

Allura sped towards the medbay where Coran was still cleaning up the clothes from earlier. She would have this horrible  _ feeling  _ on her ship no longer. They were going to address the issue Lance had brought up. The unspoken implications of  _ failure  _ that came with the rebel’s rescue of Keith. 

Because there was nothing worse than guilt. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my fucking god season 8 was an emotional ride. 
> 
> If you want to scream about it, put in the comments, but I'm going to remain spoiler-free up here, just in case there are readers who haven't gotten the chance to see it <3 
> 
> I'm so emotionally damaged by that ending though like-
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Leave a comment/kudos if you did, and if you want to scream about season 8 with me, go right on ahead! Just remain courteous and make sure that you don't ruin the ending for those that haven't seen it all yet <3 
> 
> I'll see you all next Saturday!


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Paladins sit down for a long overdue talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't beta-read, so all mistakes are on me. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Pidge sat with her legs folded underneath her on a couch in the lounge. Lance sat next to her, Hunk pressed into his side. In the couch beside them, Keith had made himself a nest out of his red hoodie, his hair wet and drying with Shiro next to him, an arm tentatively around his shoulders. 

Allura stood across from them, Coran at her side. Her arms were folded, her expression stern. The conversation that was going to follow was obviously one that mattered to her. 

“I know that this past week has been...hard.” Allura glanced none too subtly at Keith. He shrank further into his hoodie. “And that we all harbor some kind of emotion about what what happened, and those will be sorted out in due time, but there is something I need to get across.” She glanced at each Paladin individually. She drew her shoulders back, squaring her jaw. “Our inability to be the ones who saved Keith should burden us no longer.” 

Lance jolted beside Pidge. She glanced at him, but his gaze was fixed firmly on Allura. 

“Isn’t it our fault, though?” he asked, anger hinting in his tones. “We couldn’t get there so we had to rely on someone else to do our job for us. Some Defenders of the Universe we are. We couldn’t even save our own teammate when he needed us.”  Keith looked away, staring pointedly down at his flesh hand. His prosthetic had been tucked away in his hoodie pocket. 

“Sorry,” he whispered. 

“It’s not your fault,” Shiro said, gently squeezing his arm. 

“Yeah,” Pidge spoke up. “If anything…” she sighed. “It’s ours.” 

“We weren’t there when you needed us,” Lance agreed. 

“But if I hadn’t-” 

“No, Keith,” Shiro said firmly. “This isn’t your fault in any way.”

“And neither is it any of yours,” Coran said. He stepped forward, crossing his arms over his chest. They startled, looking at him. “The fact that we couldn’t get there is not a testament of our weakness.” 

“Isn’t it, though?” Hunk spoke for the first time since he'd sat down. He was looking pointedly at a spot just above the door. “If we really are Paladins of Voltron, then we would have been able to get in, get out, no problem.” 

Keith murmured something, shifting in his seat. Allura looked at him. 

“What was that?” 

Keith shuffled again, but looked up, gaze hardened. “No,” he said again, louder this time. “That’s not true.” 

“What?” Lance gaped at him. 

“When I tried to… when I tried to escape,” Keith squeezed his eyes shut. He pressed his body closer to Shiro’s, chasing away bad memories. “Lotor had everything pre-prepared. Like… he knew I was coming. He took my bayard from the training room where he challenged me to a duel-” 

“You  _ fought  _ Lotor?!” Hunk yelped. 

“Yes, and I lost,” Keith said. He didn’t shy away from the topic. His tone was firm, voice steady. Shiro looked immensely proud. “Regardless, he took my bayard from the training room like… like he  _ knew  _ what I was planning. That I would escape and the first thing I go for was my weapon. He was also waiting for me at the pod bay like he was waiting for me there, too. I…” He shivered and pressed his lips tightly together. He trembled, pressing his cheek into Shiro’s shoulder. He didn’t continue. 

“I think what Keith is trying to say is that Lotor would have seen a rescue attempt coming,” Shiro said. “And he would have taken the necessary precautions to stop us.” 

“But the rebels he wouldn’t have seen coming,” Lance breathed. “He wouldn’t have prepared for something he didn’t think about.” Keith nodded once, short and stiff. He kept his gaze firmly down at his feet folded underneath him.

“See?” Coran said. “Not our fault. The only way we could have successfully gotten Keith was to take Lotor by surprise, and if he was expecting a rescue, it would not have been much of a surprise at all.” 

“There is also another rather…gruesome fact that remains,” Allura said. She glanced at Keith and then away. “I believe that if we hadn’t relied on Ryner and the Coalition when we did, Keith would not be with us.” 

Keith flinched. 

“That’s…” Lance trailed off. He glanced at Keith. 

“We all saw what he was like when we first landed on Zaaf,” said Allura. She felt awful for presenting such a grim reality to him, especially when the wounds of his capture were still so fresh, but it was something that needed to be said. To ease the guilt she knew still lingered in her Paladins. “If we arrived at the designated time like the original plan detailed then… then there wouldn’t be any Keith left to save.” 

Whether he knew it or not, Keith had gone up to grip his prosthetic arm. Allura’s stomach rolled at the sight. She knew there was a story behind it - she just wasn’t sure she wanted to hear it. 

“So…” Pidge spoke. She had scooted a little closer to Keith and Shiro’s couch. “What you’re saying is that relying on the rebels was actually better for Keith?” 

“And that even if we had gotten there at the right time,” Lance’s stormy expression had finally cleared. Allura was glad to see it go. “Lotor would have seen our rescue attempt coming and taken the proper measures to counter it?" Allura nodded.

“I’m sure we would have lost both Lance and Shiro to the Galra if we had,” she said firmly. She’d never been so sure of something. Whether they, too, would become prisoners or become another casualty to this ten-thousand-year-old war didn’t matter. They would still become one with the tragedy. Another two names lost to the tide of war.  Lance and Shiro exchanged looks.

“Okay then, what about back at the beginning?” Pidge spoke. Lance flinched. He knew what was coming. “Lance and I were the ones who were with Keith, trying to get those prisoners out. If we hadn’t thought he’d been fine, then none of this would have happened.” She looked down. Guilt still weighed heavy on her. Regardless of how their previous situation had been cleared, nothing could change that. “If I hadn’t been so intent on finding Matt-”  _ who would end up saving him,  _ she thought bitterly. “-then I would have stayed with him and we could have fought off those sentries together. All three of us.” 

“Yeah,” Lance agreed quietly. “I… forgot that Keith has his limits. And I was so worried about Pidge getting caught that I… just  _ left.”  _ He looked at Keith. “I’m sorry,” he said weakly. He sounded broken. Tired. “I should have stayed with you. I should have-” 

“Lance, this isn’t your fault,” Hunk cut across him firmly. “ _ Esto no es culpa tuya.  _ Okay?” 

Lance didn’t answer. He kept his gaze on Keith, hoping that he could read the guilt.  _ Feel  _ how sorry he was from the space in between couches. Keith just stared at him. 

“I’m sorry,” Lance said again. Keith’s eyes slid back to Pidge, who wasn’t looking at anyone. She had her gaze fixed on her jacket sleeve, of which she was messing with the cuff. 

“You guys think what happened there… was because of you?” Keith said slowly. Both Lance and Pidge nodded mutely. Keith looked at Shiro, who looked back. Keith had an unspoken conversation with him before rising unsteadily from the couch. He took a few shaky steps toward them and knelt, pulling Pidge’s hands away from her sleeve. “That’s wrong,” he said quietly. He knew he’d have to be clear here, something he was never too good at, but this was for Pidge and Lance. The only way they’d let go of their guilt was if they knew they weren’t to blame. 

“How is it wrong?” Pidge’s voice was tight. Tears swam in her eyes. “We left you to fight an army of sentries  _ on your own.  _ If we’d stayed, you would have been fine! We  _ all  _ would have been fine!” 

Keith shook his head. “That’s wrong,” he said again. 

“I don’t understand,” Pidge said weakly. “How is it wrong?” 

Keith reached out carefully. His prosthetic hand pulled out from underneath his hoodie and he gripped one of Lance’s large hands in his. It was shockingly cold against his skin. His other hand he used to grab Pidge’s, clutching them both tightly. 

“Keith…?” Lance dared himself to ask. 

“That’s wrong,” he said for the third time. “It’s not your fault. It’s… it’s not even mine, either.” He looked back at Shiro, who smiled approvingly. “If you guys had stayed, you would have been captured, too. I don’t want that. I never would have wanted that.” 

“We could have gotten out,” Lance whispered. “We could have-”

“Could haves… don’t do anything,” Keith said. “The whole time I was with the Galra, all I could think about was what I could have done differently. Like… maybe if I hadn’t fought Lotor I wouldn’t have let him predict me so easily when I escaped. Or if I hadn’t been caught trying to get out, then I wouldn’t have lost my arm. It’s… not going to help us if we think about stuff that we could have done. My dad…” his breath hitched. “My dad used to tell me to be grateful for the things that you have right now and be able to look back and thank the hardships you endured to get you to where you are.” 

“Your dad sounds like… a smart man,” Pidge choked. 

“Was,” Keith corrected, looking far away. “Was a smart man.” 

“Oh, Keith-” Pidge backpedaled. “I-I didn’t-” 

“I know,” Keith said. “And that’s okay. You know what else you didn’t know? The fact that there’d be so much security on that ship. None of us had any way of knowing. We all just thought it’d be another jailbreak mission. We didn’t know there’d be a warden with druids on board.  _ None  _ of us did. So you two blaming yourselves for something none of us had any way of knowing is…” his lips quirked upward. An imitation of his old smirk. “Dumb as shit.” 

Lance laughed wetly. He used his free had to scrub tears away from his cheeks. Pidge moved a little closer to Keith, holding his hand with both of her own. She leaned her forehead against it. 

“I’m just so glad you’re okay,” she whispered. Keith smiled a little and looked at Lance. He squeezed a little tighter with his prosthetic hand. It still hurt Lance a little when Keith refused to look at it, but he smiled softly when Lance reciprocated the movement. 

“Not your fault,” he said softly. “I promise.” 

Lance stared back. He felt like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. It was easier to breathe, knowing that Keith didn’t blame him. That after all, he and Pidge had just reacted as they would in a situation in which they were uncertain of the future. Of course, a portion of the blame rested on them, but it rested as well on the rest of them. And the best way they could help atone for that was to help Keith recover. To bring him back to being the Red Paladin, and perhaps even beyond that. 

Without thinking, Lance slid off the couch. All semblance of dignity forgotten, he wrapped his free arm around Keith and brought him in for a tight hug. Pidge joined less than a second later, keeping Keith’s hand tightly clasped in one of her’s, wrapping herself tightly around Keith’s middle. 

No one dared to interrupt the moment. Keith looked so happy, so  _ content  _ wrapped in the arms of his brother and sister that everyone was wary of breaking the spell. His smile was bright, it was genuine, like everything he’d been through hadn’t happened and he was just enjoying a moment with his family. 

Like all good things, though, it had to come to an end. Lance pulled back first, then Pidge, both wiping tears desperately from wet cheeks. Keith looked at them, serene expression and smile fading from his face. 

“Better?” He asked. 

“Better,” Lance and Pidge agreed, voices congested. 

Hunk smiled, setting his hand down on Lance’s shoulder and looking around at the rest of the assembled team - no,  _ family. _ He jumped from face to face, ranging from proud to content and felt his own heart swell. 

“Hey,” he said, catching everyone’s attention. “What if we have a movie night?” 

“A…movie night?” Allura repeated, tilting her head. “Is that what we had a long time ago with the series…erm…what was it called?” 

“Space Wars!” Coran said excitedly. 

Shiro chuckled. “Star Wars.” 

“Yes, that!” 

Hunk nodded. “Why don’t we do it again? We can binge the Star Wars movies with snacks like we did back then.” Keith perked up. 

“Even the one about Han Solo?” He asked hopefully. Hunk beamed. 

“ _ Especially  _ the one about Han Solo.” 

Keith’s smile was radiant. 

“I can help Hunk make food,” Lance said. “I may not be as good of a cook, but I can make a  _ mean  _ flan!” 

“No, we have to make watery foods,” Hunk said. “Keith can’t stomach a lot.” Lance’s face fell and immediately brightened again as a thought occurred to him. 

“Hey,” he turned around. “Why don’t you help us, Keith?” 

Keith blinked. “Wh-What?” 

“Yeah!” Hunk’s entire expression had lit up like a Christmas tree. “Shiro told us you liked to cook back on Earth, right?” 

Keith flushed, embarrassed. “Only because Shiro couldn’t.”

“That still means something!” Lance said with a grin. Normally, he would have taken a jibe at Keith’s secret love for cooking, but at the moment he was just glad he finally had something he could kind-of bond with Keith over. “You should help us!” Keith glanced uncertaintly back at Shiro. He nodded. 

“I’ll help Pidge set everything up,” he said. “She’ll need someone tall to put up the screen.” He gave Pidge a cheeky grin. She scowled at him. 

“Hey!” 

Everyone chuckled. Allura and Coran moved closer to the group, looking relieved. Allura, especially, looked as though she could cry from how well everyone was getting along. The guilt had been cleared away for the most part, and all that was left was to help Keith recover and no matter how long that took, they’d always be there. 

_ Always.  _

“Coran and I shall assist in getting blankets,” Allura decided. 

“And, I’ll help set up all of tonight’s dishes on platters so we don’t have to keep going to and fro the kitchen,” Coran agreed. 

“It’s decided then!” Hunk leaped to his feet. “Let’s get this underway, people! Star Wars marathon, here we come!” He reached his hand out to Keith who instinctively reached back with his right hand. The metal glistened under the lights and he hesitated. 

Hunk paused, smile faltering as Keith’s gaze fell onto the metal. He could see the purple on the knuckles, accenting it. Making it prominent. There was a sad, painful story to it being there. Just like Shiro’s. But Keith didn’t have to talk about it. He could pretend it didn’t exist and Hunk almost expected it to stay that way. 

But Keith’s expression hardened. He reached out again, grasping Hunk’s hand tightly in his own. The metal was still warm from Lance’s hand. 

Hunk’s smile returned full force. He hoisted Keith up to his feet and then pulled him in for a tight hug. Keith blinked in surprise, not expecting to be the recipient of one of Hunk’s famously good hugs. He’d never really been given one before, not fully, and now he was wondering why he’d ever shied away from them to begin with. 

They were absolutely  _ heavenly.  _

Keith’s arms carefully came up to wind around Hunk. He knew Hunk could feel the scars on his back through his shirt. He also knew that Hunk had to realize those weren’t from before his capture but knew he wouldn’t pry until Keith was ready. And Keith may never be ready, but Hunk was okay with that too. 

Keith’s heart swelled. He was so,  _ so  _ lucky to have a family like this. 

“You’ll be okay,” Hunk said. It was a whispered promise, meant for him and him alone. He paused and then again- “You’ll be okay.” 

Keith smiled. He felt Pidge wrap her tiny arms around his waist, burying her face in his back. Lance moved to the other side of Hunk while Shiro took the opposite side. Coran and Allura joined as well, managing to use both of their arm-width to wrap around them all. 

“You’ll never be alone, Keith,” Shiro said. “Not if we have anything to say about it.” 

And with all of them there, their arms wrapped around him like a protective shroud, Keith saw no reason to doubt them. He closed his eyes, resting his chin on Hunk’s shoulder. Laynek’s eyes did not leer at him from the darkness, Haggar’s high laugh did not run down his spine, and Lotor’s voice did not taunt him.  His family would help him. They were there and they would not leave. No matter what. 

Keith’s lips twitched into a smile. “I know.” 

Hunk gave him another hearty squeeze before pulling away. The rest of the team followed one by one, Shiro the one who stepped away last. It had been the most Keith had been touched in years, but he didn’t despise it. In fact, he’d like nobody else to have a cuddle pile with than his own family. 

Hunk bumped Lance with his shoulder. “How about that flan, huh?” 

Lance’s smile was enormous. 

Keith let out a soft chuckle, looking around him. He’d never felt so safe and warm before. Loved in a way no one else could ever make him feel. 

It was  _ wonderful.  _

And Keith wouldn’t have changed it for the world. 

Haggar and Laynek stood across from each other. On the table between them was a single arm, severed from a shoulder. It was smooth and pale and crackling with energy. Laynek could barely see a red outline surrounding it like mist as the witch drew the quintessence out of it with her magic. 

“This is it?” He spoke and his voice sounded bubbly. Like there was constantly something wet in the back of his throat. Purple blood ran down his jaw from the destroyed bits of his mouth. “This is how we will find the Prisoner?” 

“Yes,” Haggar hissed. She curled her hand into a fist and twisted her wrist, pulling it up. The red came out like a mist of blood, turning quietly into a ball of red, glowing quintessence. “This will not tell us the exact location, but it will give us an idea of where those  _ meddlesome rebels  _ escaped with him to.” 

“I see,” Laynek looked down at the unmoving arm that had once belonged to the Red Paladin. “If we find the rebels, we will find Voltron from them. And then we will find our Prisoner.” 

“Keith,” Haggar crooned, looking at her new quintessence. It molded and shifted. “Soon I will understand everything about your kind. About half-breeds. And… about  _ you.”  _

Keith had intrigued her in the way no other prisoner had. In his fire that refused to be doused until he’d been stripped bare. Haggar had seen things of him - of the homes that hurt him, of the mother that left him, of the father that died - and wanted to know more. She wanted to see what kind of fire burned so bright in him that it had nearly taken everything to put it out. 

She wanted to know  _ more.  _

“I will glean the location of the rebels from this,” she said. “The quintessence is a few quintants old, so it will only go to where they have taken him, but I’m sure we will have no problem finding his location from them. Of that, I am sure.” 

“Wonderful,” Laynek bared his fangs. Purple blood oozed from his burnt skin. Revenge was just on the tip of his tongue. He could taste it. “Let us punish our prisoner.” 

“Yes,” Haggar agreed in a sneer. “Let’s.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you haven't read it already, I did go back and add a little detail into Chapter 18, where I added Matt giving the team back Keith's bayard, which (if you remember) he found while he and his team were breaking Keith out. I meant to add that detail a long time ago, but I forgot to until now. Whoops. 
> 
> Anyways, recovery! And Laynek! But mostly recovery! Pidge and Lance angst is always a gem and I love writing it, especially when there's comfort to follow. I love this rag-tag space family so much. 
> 
> And, just an FYI, I know that writers are dying out because the show has ended, but I'm intending on staying here for a while. I have the BTHB project to finish and another Keith-centric fic that will come out after Sun has ended (keep an eye out for that one ;)) so I'll still be here! 
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading! I'll see you next Saturday! <3
> 
> Like what nonsense I put out here? You can find my Tumblr [here](https://chocolatechip-master.tumblr.com/)! Hope to see you there!


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Accepting is the beginning of the long road to recovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't beta-read, so all mistakes are on me. 
> 
> Enjoy!

“Keith.”

Allura put her hand carefully on Keith’s shoulder as he was about to leave the room. He looked over at her, tilting his head.

“Yeah?” He asked, flinching away from her touch.

“You mentioned Lotor having your bayard, right?” Allura asked. Keith flinched, nodding. He felt guilty enough having lost it. He was so sure it was in there. He remembered digging desperately through rusty swords and chains only to discover it wasn’t there. He wrapped his arms around himself, cold metal digits digging deep his sides. Allura’s expression softened. “I-I didn’t mean to remind you-”

“It’s fine,” Keith said curtly. “What about it?”

“Well…” Allura extended her arms from where she had kept them purposefully hidden behind her. In both of her hands lay the unmistakable form of Keith’s bayard.

Keith’s mouth gaped open. He looked from the bayard back to Allura, who was beaming. Words failed him. “H-How…?”

“Pidge’s brother,” Allura nodded over to Pidge and Shiro. Shiro was teasingly holding Pidge’s laptop of movies over his head while she climbed on the couch to try and reach it. “He found it while they were breaking you out. I think it’s high time it was returned to you.”

Keith did want to take it. He really did. He had his right hand half-extended, the metal fingers reaching out ever-so-slowly. Then, the remnants of his escape, smearing blood all over the dull handles of swords, the bayard clattering out of his hand after he lost the duel, all came flooding back and he took a few unsteady steps backward. He shook his head.

“No,” he whispered hoarsely. “I-I can’t…”

Allura’s forehead creased in concern. “Keith?”

“I-” Keith squeezed his eyes shut. “It’s too much. Right now. I...just keep it. Please.” Allura did not mask the surprise on her face as she lowered her hand with the bayard in it. She had at least expected Keith to take the bayard with thanks, grateful for a means to defend himself, but it seemed even his weapon was far too much of a reminder.

“I’m sorry,” Allura said, struggling to find the right words. “I thought that you’d be grateful to have something to...defend yourself.”  

“It’s okay,” Keith said. He patted his hoodie pockets, where a small undefinable shape was nestled within. “I-I have my mom’s knife. I’ll be okay. I just…” He sighed, squeezing his eyes shut, ridding himself of some horrifying memory, before fixing Allura with his stare once more. The light had started to return to those dull amethyst eyes. “I can’t do it right now. It’s too much.”

Allura nodded with a gentle smile. “I understand. I will keep this safe until you’re ready.”

Keith gave her a smile. He put both hands in his hoodie, grasping the handle of his knife with both hands. “Thanks, Allura.”

“Hey, Keith!” Lance popped his head in the door with a huge grin. “You coming? I gotta so you _mi familia’s_ recipes!”

“Yeah, give me a second,” Keith called back. He glanced back at Allura who smiled and nodded toward the door.

“Go,” she encouraged. “We will all be here when you return.” Keith looked beyond her, to Shiro and Pidge, who were still warring over the laptop, to Coran who was digging in a closet in the lounge that Keith didn’t even know existed. He watched them, and a smile began to tug at his lips.

Keith didn’t know where heaven was, but he was pretty sure it had to look something like this.

“Okay,” he said. He turned on his heel and headed toward Lance, who was waiting for him at the door. He looked back once to see Allura smiling at him with Shiro’s laughter lighting up the room. 

And just then, Keith thought that the daunting process of recovery really was possible.

 

Hunk was lighting up the burner as Lance and Keith arrived. Without looking up, he pointed to a bowl on the counter, steam rising in curtains from it.

“Eat,” he said, and Keith obeyed. He sat down in a seat at the counter and pulled the bowl towards him, stirring it gently with his spoon. He recognized the maroon broth and white chunks of beef - it was the stew from earlier. His stomach growled. Hunk turned around with a flourish, wielding a wooden spoon. “Hope you don’t mind leftovers,” he said. “I’m going to make a lot of liquid-y stuff for you tonight, so your stomach doesn’t like implode on itself. But, I’m trusting you not to eat too much. Your shriveled stomach might not be able to take it and you’ll just throw it all up. It won’t be fun.”

Keith shivered, looking down at the stew. As hungry as he was, throwing up didn’t sound like a good pastime for tonight. He’d never liked the feeling, the trembling that came after and the raw feeling in his throat afterward, so he’d pass.

“I’ll be careful,” he promised. He lifted the spoon to his mouth, using his left and keeping his right hand clenched tightly around his knife in his pocket.

For a while, he just watched and ate as Lance and Hunk went around the kitchen and got out what felt like every single pot and pan that they owned. Every single space on the stove was occupied, water starting to boil. Lance dug around in the pantry for miscellaneous foods Hunk could put in soups, causing confusion in the kitchen when he uncovered an old Altean beverage that was stored in a strange futuristic version of a soda can. All three of them crowded around it, wondering how to open it until Hunk lifted it from Lance’s hand, his forefinger and thumb wrapped around the head and accidentally triggered the opening.

The can all but exploded.

Keith wisely stepped away to avoid the spray of clear beverage that came pouring out. Hunk and Lance were both less lucky, both of them dropping the can they had been holding between them. They yelped, sticky soda drenching them both.

“ _Dios!”_ Lance spat soda out of his mouth, flicking his hands. His front was sopping wet and smelled oddly of strawberries.

“What the heck _is_ that?” Hunk demanded, pushing his wet bangs out of his eyes. Keith stepped forward and stooped to pick up the can. It was set and sticky as he turned it, eying the label. He couldn’t read Altean (Pidge was the most adept of the humans of understanding it) but the big illustration of a smiling strawberry on the front told the whole story.

“Strawberry soda,” he answered, handing it to Lance who was glaring at the can. “I think.”

“I wasn’t aware that Altean sodas exploded when you opened them!” Lance spluttered.

“How’s the cooking going?”

Keith turned with Hunk and Lance to face Coran who was observing the kitchen with a grin. He laid eyes upon them and his smile widened.

“Don’t say a word,” Lance grumbled, peeling his jacket off. It dripped on the floor. “I blame your exploding sodas.”

“Exploding…” comprehension dawned in Coran’s face and quickly turned into childlike glee. Keith had never seen him look so excited. “Ah! Popping Sodas!”

“I’m sorry, _what?”_ Lance asked as Hunk took his jacket and went to go wring them out over the sink. Coran bounced towards them and took the can Lance still held in his hand and observed it.

“Popping Sodas?” Keith asked carefully. Coran turned a wide-eyed gaze to him.

“Yes, my boy!” he said. “It was a popular Altean drink. Why, when I was a lad I’d purposefully shake these up to the little poppers inside would go off and open them in my friends’ faces!” He laughed uproariously, wiping a false tear from his eyes. “How I miss those days!”

“Okay, hold on a moment, Coran,” Lance said. “ _Un momento, por favor._ What are Popping Sodas?!”

“Yeah, they scared the crap out of us!” Hunk chimed in. He seemed to be the least miffed about his wet clothes between him and Lance.

“They’re delicious sodas that, when shaken, activate little balls put in the bottom to add more fizz!” Coran said joyously. “If you don’t wait for the particles to settle then it’ll pop right off into someone’s face!”

Lance did not look half as amused as Coran did about these sodas. He proceeded to take the can and glare at it while Keith watched with a tiny smile from afar. He put both hands in his pocket thumbed the blade carefully with his flesh hand. For once, he allowed himself to relax, put the pain of the past behind him but as soon as he did…

The hairs on the back of his neck began to rise. An unseeable gaze pressed onto his back. Full of hatred, of malice. They were here to hurt Keith, to tear him apart and destroy him all over again-

Keith whipped his head around. His still damp hair hit him in the face as he stared at the empty door to the kitchen. No one stood in the doorway staring at him. There was a distinct lack of yellow eyes leering at him from the darkness. No one was there. Keith was safe where he was, with his family.

But why did he feel so uneasy?

“Keith?” Hunk called.

Keith turned around, his eyes blown wide. His breaths were coming out in short sharp gasps. He was cutting his hand open on his blade, he realized, from gripping it so tightly.

“Is everything okay, my boy?” Coran reached out and Keith automatically flinched away, taking a few steps back. He tried to force himself to stay focused, but that flight-or-fight response he’d been repressing was starting to come back full force. He had to find someone safe, find someone safe-

_Shiro._

Shiro was safe. He was always safe. He protected Keith from the foster homes, brought him out, brought him to the Garrison. He was safe.

Where was Shiro?

_Where was-_

There were a pair of arms surrounding him in a second. Keith’s cheek was now pressed against a wet shirt that smelled like an odd mix of laundry detergent and strawberry. It was Hunk.

Keith let his haunches lower and the fear began to ebb away.

The Castle was safe. Shiro was just a few rooms away. Hunk, Lance, and Coran were all here to help protect him.

Keith shut his eyes and buried his head into Hunk’s chest. He didn’t care if it was sticky and he was smearing gross soda into his newly-cleaned hair. He wanted to relish in Hunk’s warm - _safe_ \- embrace for as long as he possibly could. Nothing could touch him here.

Slowly, his breathing began to ease. He began to relax as Coran and Lance carefully came around to see if everything was okay. Keith did not make a move away from Hunk’s hug. He felt ashamed to face them. He was away from the Galra’s hands now, why couldn’t his mind comprehend that? He kept causing trouble, kept scaring the people who just wanted to forget that one of them had even gotten captured in the first place.

“’M sorry…” Keith whispered into Hunk’s chest. “I-I thought I…”

“No,” Hunk’s voice was firm. “No, don’t apologize. You...you’ve been through so much. Don’t apologize for something like this.”

“But I…”

“No,” Hunk said again. “You’re allowed to be scared. You’re allowed to feel _anything_ you want. Don’t repress this stuff and apologize like it doesn’t exist.”

Keith bit his lip to desperately hide the way his throat tightened and his eyes stung with tears. He failed to mask the crack in his voice. “Hunk…”

“Don’t apologize,” Hunk said. His thumb was brushing gentle circles into Keith’s back. “And if you need to...cry.”

Unwillingly, Keith began to tremble. A sob slipped past clenched teeth. His tears felt hot on his skin, foreign and so very wrong. He gripped at his metal arm, at the pressure over his chest, the heavy weight of the mats over his chest, the druids surrounding him, the realization as he woke up and lay on an arm that was no longer his. The escape attempt, the scars he’d gained as a price for the lives he’d taken.

Every part of Keith told him he did not deserve to cry. That everything that had happened to him had happened because he was a desperate boy from the desert who could never do anything right, who had taken a gamble of his own false strength and paid the price for it. But he was crying anyway. Almost full-blown sobbing into Hunk’s chest.

_He didn’t deserve this-_

The bond that Keith shared with Red suddenly flared white hot. She had been quiet, letting Keith sort things out with his family, but now it was time for something she knew only she could fix. She pushed down their bond, stronger than she had ever been. A fiery presence of warmth and love that wrapped around his quintessence and protected it with an angry hiss. She filled Keith with that warmth of belonging and family that he loved so and chased the dark thoughts away.

 _No,_ she growled. _No._

“Red…” Keith tried to say, the words muffled by Hunk’s shirt. “Red, no…” He was hardly even intelligible through is blubbering gasps, but Hunk and Lance both seemed to understand who he was talking to.

 _My Paladin is full of fire. Of pride and love._ Red snarled. Keith was overwhelmed at the sheer _sincerity_ of her love. _He protects and is as strong as he makes himself out to be._

“Red, _no-”_

 _What he has been through does not define him,_ she said, refusing to give Keith any purchase in the conversation. He was going to listen to her. _Losing much only allows him to gain so much more. We are_ proud _of my Paladin. Of what he has endured to return to us._

Keith knew that she spoke for all the Lions, as every single one of them brushed against him weakly from their shared bond from Voltron. Black was the strongest, using their former bond to speak in visions of dark starry skies and purple mist in the universe.

“No-” Keith tried again.

 _My Paladin is not weak,_ Red said. She curled around his weakly flaring quintessence, breathing on it. Coaxing it like a flame. _He deserves to cry. The lives that he took would have only caused pain. He is not weak. He is not the one who gets to decide that._

Keith’s legs wobbled and gave out under him. He was now sobbing fully, shoulders trembling as Hunk fell with him. Coran and Lance knelt on his other side, unsure of what to do except observe and support silently.

“Yellow’s trying to reach out to you,” Hunk murmured. “Can you feel her?”

“Blue, too,” Lance said.

Keith nodded as Red purred in the back of his consciousness. He could feel all the Lions pulling and tugging at his quintessence, piecing it back together.

Slowly, Keith began to realize.

What happened in the Galra ship - the lives he’d taken, Lotor outsmarting him at every turn, losing his arm - was not something that made Keith weak. It was a testament to that unbreakable will that shone as strong as the sun. Keith was not weak. Nobody thought he was, not even the Galra. They would not even have to have torn him down in the first place if they thought he was.

Red purred. _Weakness is not something that is decided by a single person. It is decided upon in their will, how far they want to go for the people around them. And my Paladin has the strongest will of all._

Keith cried harder, the realization crashing over him. He finally understood. He wasn’t weak - not at all. On the contrary, it was his strength that allowed him to push through so much agony and still somehow come out on top. Getting captured was the worst thing that had ever happened to him, but he would not have realized this otherwise.

“Red…” he choked out. “Red...everyone…” he spoke not only to the Lions still doing their best to press against his quintessence through their Voltron bond but to his teammates, still around him, supporting him at his weakest.

“We’re here, Keith,” Coran murmured. His fingers carefully ghosted up and down Keith’s back, rubbing it softly. Keith nodded into Hunk’s still wet shirt, clutching it tightly. He knew that. Of course he knew that. His family was always, always going to be there for him. Through thick and thin, they would always be there.

“Thank you,” he sobbed. “ _Thank you.”_

And no other words could fit it better.

Keith was finally ready to face the worst of his demons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I wrote this while eating Andes mints and it was the greatest experience of my entire life. Also, my 'e' key broke while editing so I had to fix that and there were like 500 'e's just all over the doc it was wild. 
> 
> Anyways, this chapter was super sweet to do! I had to have some little domestic fun in with the exploding sodas before I continue with the angst. Next chapter, Keith finally opens up a little about his trauma and finds comfort in the movie marathon.
> 
> The next time _Sun_ will update will be after New Years, so in advance, Happy New Years!! To another year of Keith whump :D Also, I hope you all had a Merry Christmas!! 
> 
> And truly, honestly, thank you all for your continued, wonderful support. Honestly, I probably would have given up on this fic long ago, but the continued love and comments that I get every single chapter encourages me to keep writing because I know people are enjoying it. This story wouldn't be what it is today without every single one of your reader and I'm so grateful to all of you because of it <3 
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading! I'll see you all next Saturday!


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recovery takes time, time that the Paladins are more than willing to give Keith.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't beta-read, so all mistakes are on me. 
> 
> Enjoy!

“They...they put me in a sensory-deprivation room.” 

Keith sat with both hands clasped over a warm bowl, staring down at it. Around him sat his entire family as Hunk continued preparing food for the movie marathon. Shiro sat at his left, looking both increasingly concerned as Keith finally laid out all of his trauma bare for them to see. Pidge sat to his right, with Allura and Coran leaning over either side of the counter. Lance pursed his lips from where he was chopping an onion that had what looked like another onion growing out of it. 

Shiro’s hands curled into fists. His prosthetic creaked, but he didn’t interrupt. Pidge scooted her chair over so she could be a little closer to Keith. Whether it was for her own support or his, Keith appreciated it nonetheless.

“Laynek...that Galra...he put a blindfold on me and noise-canceling headphones and just... _ left _ me there…” Keith curled his hands into fists. His throat tightened. Talking about the memory made it worse, but he knew the only way to truly recover from the trauma was to talk about it - just like Shiro did for him before all of this. 

“God… that Galra’s even worse than Matt described,” Lance murmured. There was a chorus of warning looks shot at him, particularly from Shiro. Keith wondered if Lance had almost said something he wasn’t supposed to. 

“I...uh...I was left there for...a day? Maybe more?” Keith furrowed his eyebrows. He knew he’d been imprisoned for a total of eight days, but time was still fuzzy there. The only thing that was the constant on that ship was pain. Which admittedly was as horrifying as it sounded. “They didn’t feed me or give me anything to drink. I kind of used my blood as a substitute.” 

Allura looked like she might be sick. “Your...blood?” 

Keith nodded shortly. “There was...a lot of blood in my mouth.” He winced. “I-I think you guys saw. The transmission? When Laynek…” he trailed off. The painful memory of Laynek smashing his nose into the ground caused his breath to hitch. He remembered the sharp taste of copper flooding his mouth. Around him, the Paladins nodded. They knew what he was talking about. “Yeah, it got a lot of blood in my mouth and nearly broke my nose...so I just used that.” 

“That’s-” Shiro gritted his teeth. He watched Hunk stir a pot on a stove with far more force than necessary. 

“Wrong? Horrifying? Fucked up six ways from Sunday?” Pidge offered. She latched herself onto Keith’s arm and buried her face into his shoulder. “You didn’t deserve that…” she said, voice muffled by his sleeve. Keith smiled a little down at her, using his free hand - his  _ prosthetic  _ \- to pat her head. 

“It’s okay,” he said, despite knowing it wasn’t. “Laynek’s dead now. We don’t have to worry about him anymore.”

Around him, his family exchanged nervous looks. Guilt churned in Shiro’s stomach. Laynek had clearly caused the most pain during Keith’s stay with the Galra. Concealing the reality of the situation from Keith...was it really the right thing to do? 

Shiro could feel the eyes of the others on him. He refused to meet their gaze, instead finding his metal arm far more interesting. He still stood by his original intentions. Keith would not be able to focus on recovering like he was right now if he knew Laynek was alive. He’d be terrified of the prospect of Laynek coming back from him. 

But still...was keeping the truth from Keith really what was best for his recovery? 

Of that, Shiro wasn’t so sure of anymore. 

“Lance, hand me the onion,” Hunk’s voice was harder than usual. Lance sliced off the second onion growing out of the first and handed the half-cut onion to him. Hunk began cutting up the rest of it furiously, eyes narrowed. 

“How could they  _ do  _ that?” He demanded, eyebrows creased as Lance began to cut the second onion. 

Keith smiled sadly. Hunk didn’t even know the half of what he’d been through. Honestly, Keith still wasn’t ready to discuss the amputation of his arm or the events leading up to it. He shivered, remembering the whispering voices, the weights keeping him immobile, the dancing fingers lulling him to sleep. 

He was sure the scene would haunt him in every single nightmare to come. 

Allura reached over to grasp Keith’s hand resting on the table. “We are here for you.” She murmured as a reminder. 

“I know,” Keith said. 

Hunk sighed heavily, scraping onion bits off of his cutting board and into his soup with a knife. “I’m still in disbelief, honestly.” 

“Same,” Lance murmured. His next cut came dangerously close to slicing open his finger. 

“Keith,” Shiro turned to face him, setting a hand on his shoulder. “Are...you okay? After all that?” Keith paused, mulling the question over. He certainly was able to handle soft fabric surfaces even after, but the thought of the silence, the thought of being left in the dark was somewhat terrifying. 

He paused and shook his head. “No,” he admitted. “But...I think I’ll get better. With time, I’ll definitely recover.” 

Shiro smiled. “That’s the mindset we like to see.” 

Keith returned the smile a bit hesitantly and looked around as Hunk turned around with an enormous pot of stew in his hands. He slammed it down onto the counter and inspected it, frowning slightly. 

“This enough for tonight?” He asked. “We can bring those Popping Sodas that we found.” 

“Popping Sodas?” Shiro asked. Lance made a face as he turned around, sprinkling a few more onions into the stew. His hair was still a bit damp from the soda. 

“Don’t ask,” he grumbled. 

“Is that why you and Hunk left to change clothes a little while ago?” Pidge smirked. 

“I said don’t ask!” 

Pidge laughed and leaned her chin on her palm. She turned back to Keith, knitting her eyebrows. “Are you sure you’re gonna be okay tonight? We can like...leave on a light or something during the movie.” 

Keith thought about it. He was initially expecting to have to deal with the darkness and was planning to press himself up against Shiro’s side as tightly as he could and ignore the feeling of being watched creeping in on him from all sides. But with a light on, everything that would be uncomfortable about that night would melt away. 

“Yeah,” he said. “A light would really help. Thanks, Pidge.” He glanced at her to catch her smile before she turned away to watch Hunk, Lance, and Coran try and figure out how to balance the enormous pot of soup on a floating Altean platter. As inept as Pidge claimed to be at talking and comforting people, she really was quite observant. She had noticed that Keith would be mildly terrified of the dark after what he’d been through, after all. 

“Okay, it looks balanced,” Hunk murmured. The pot began to tip sideways, toward Lance. “Nope, nope, nope, Lance  _ catch it!”  _

Lance did, but only narrowly. He continued to awkwardly hold onto the pot as he, Hunk, and Coran awkwardly stepped out into the hallway and waddled down the corridor. Shiro smiled after them, looking amused. 

“Should we move to the lounge, then?” Shiro asked. “Everything’s set up and Allura got everyone’s favorite blankets.” 

Pidge’s eyes lit up. “Every one? Even my fuzzy green one?” 

“Even the fuzzy green one.” 

Pidge launched herself out of her seat. “I’ll meet you guys there! I gotta go make a nest.” 

Allura sighed heavily as Pidge sprinted out of the kitchen. “She has already made one out of her room, I don’t think she needs another one…” 

“It’s a Pidge thing,” Shiro said with a fond smile. “She’s always been like this. You get used to it.” 

Keith tried to imagine a younger Pidge with longer hair wrapped in a nest of blankets with an old laptop sitting on her lap. The image was vivid. 

“We should get going, too,” Shiro said. “You feel okay enough to walk?” 

Keith nodded. He lifted himself carefully out of his seat, the sleeves of his hoodie riding up on his forearms a bit. There was a glint of metal, a flash of white, and Keith froze. 

The two reminders he’d probably never be able to deal with properly. 

His metal arm and his grotesque scars. 

The image of the pink circling scars around his whole arm made Keith shiver. He heard a whisper of Laynek’s low chuckle, a sea of hushed voices that belonged to the druids. 

A shudder chased its way up Keith’s spine. 

“Hey,” Shiro set his hand on Keith’s shoulder. The touch grounded him, bringing him back to the present. Shiro was next to him, with Allura lingering by the doorway, looking concerned. Shiro smiled a little, placing his hand over Keith’s still on the table. “You don’t have to talk about them right now,” he murmured. “I know they must be hard for you to deal with, but we’re here for you, okay? Whenever you’re ready to talk...whenever you’re ready to put these behind you, we’ll be here. So don’t worry until then. Okay?” 

Keith’s heart swelled with warmth. “Okay.” 

He followed Shiro out into the hallway. The three of them headed to the lounge in silence, the distant hum of voices coming from inside. The door slid open at their approach and they made their way over to the couches. Lance, Hunk, and Coran had managed to perch the enormous pot of stew precariously on the platter, leaning awkwardly up against one of the couches. Pidge sat in front of an enormous projector screen that hung down from the ceiling, already bathed in blankets. A green one hung over her head as she typed away on her laptop. The screen was lit up with the image of her desktop as she clicked around in her frankly enormous movie database. 

She clicked on the Star Wars folder and looked up as Lance flung himself onto the couch. He had a blue blanket spread over his lanky limbs. 

“Let’s get this party started!” He cheered, grinning over at Keith. Allura went to go sit down next to Coran as Keith spotted a familiar red blanket and sank down next to it, piling it on his lap. His knife pressed against his stomach from where it was still firmly tucked away in his hoodie pocket. 

Shiro sat next to him, flinging a heavy black blanket over the two of them. Keith didn’t hesitate to relax into it, resting his head on Shiro’s shoulder. Lance’s expression softened on the other couch and he stood, throwing his blanket on top of Shiro’s and settling down on Keith's other side. Hunk dimmed the lights and squeezed onto the edge of the couch, right next to Lance, tossing his own blanket on top of the pile. 

Pidge turned to look at them and smiled, clicking on the first movie and standing up. Coran dimmed the lights, respectfully leaving them on for Keith’s sake, and sat back down next to Allura. 

“Make room!” Pidge ordered, throwing herself next to Shiro and lying practically in his lap. Shiro made an ‘oomph’ noise as her head hit his stomach, but he still smiled all the same, one arm wrapped around Keith’s shoulders. 

“This better be in the right order, Pidge,” Lance warned. 

“Who do you think I am?” Pidge stared at him. “We start with the Phantom Menace!” 

Hunk visibly cringed. “That one’s the  _ worst.”  _

“Still gotta watch it,” Lance sighed. 

“Oh,  _ please.  _ Attack of the Clones is the worst,” Pidge wrinkled her nose and proceeded to deepen her voice. “‘I don’t like sand. It’s coarse and rough and it gets everywhere.’” 

Lance snorted. “Point taken.” 

Keith smiled fondly, making himself more comfortable against Shiro. He stuck his hands in his pockets and relaxed as Hunk reached over for a bowl to grab some stew. The opening bars of the main theme began to play and Keith let himself relax, shutting his eyes and smiling fondly. 

_ This  _ was what he’d missed more than anything on the Galra ship. The jabs, the friendship, the unbridled  _ love  _ that practically oozed out of every person. Keith didn’t have to speak here or force his existence to be known so he could get even the barest necessities like he had to back at the Foster System. He didn’t have to simply exist to be given pain, to be called a ‘Prisoner’ and have every part of him stripped bare. He could be who he wanted, take as much time as he needed to recover. 

Keith was so,  _ so  _ loved by this family. And he loved them in turn, just as much as they cared for him. He would be there as much as they were here for him. 

And even as Hunk impersonated every character ridiculously at the particularly cringy moments in the movie, and the entire group bonded over a mutual hatred for the second movie, Keith had never felt more warm and loved. 

The scars on his arm twinged. 

But he didn’t have to deal with it right now. 

Not until he was ready. 

And until he was ready, his family would always be waiting for him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God I love this space family so much. They're so sweet and honestly I wish we got more moments where they could just be children rather than soldiers but eeeh wishful thinking I guess. I'll have to fill my need for those moments on my own! 
> 
> We finally got a bit of closure this chapter! There's still a lot to work through, like Keith's arm and all of his scars, but he'll get there eventually. I think what I want to tackle next is Laynek's brutality. Which will be fun! :D 
> 
> Sorry, this chapter wasn't as long as I'd like it to be. This Saturday is a bit busy and I didn't have time to edit all that I wanted out of this chapter so what I had was going to have to do. Today's just a busy day, especially with school starting up again on Monday haha. 
> 
> Thank you all so so much for reading! This has been such a journey and I'm glad I've got people to read. We hit over 10,000 hits over the New Year which is absolutely mindblowing to me. I don't think I've ever been more excited to receive so many views. Sun is one of the biggest writing projects I've ever undertaken and the fact that it's getting so much love warms my heart. It's incredible. 
> 
> See you all next Saturday! <3


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a chilling nightmare, Keith's bayard takes a new form to help him confront the demons of his past. Meanwhile, Allura suggests a new way for Keith to help him understand the horrors that he endured at the Galran's hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't beta-read, so all mistakes are on me. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Keith fell asleep about partway into the third movie. 

He could have fallen asleep earlier than that, but Shiro had only noticed when Keith slumped over into his lap, breathing slow and even. He looked at peace, which was a welcome change from the troubled, brooding expression he’d been wearing all day. Shiro smiled down at him, carding the fingers of his flesh hand through the soft raven hair that splayed out across the four blankets piled on top of them. 

Keith had made leaps and bounds with his recovery today. Shiro knew that there was still so much, almost  _ too _ much that had still been left unsaid, but Keith had at least opened up a considerable amount. True, the thought of the doomed duel made him furious and the sensory deprivation caused Shiro’s stomach to roll with an emotion he couldn’t quite place, but it was still progress. 

At Keith’s left, Lance groaned loudly at a particular cheesy moment. In response, Shiro nudged him and gestured down to the slumbering boy in his lap. Lance’s expression softened and he nodded once and turned away to rest his head on Hunk’s shoulder. 

The movie faded into background noise as Shiro continued running his fingers through Keith’s hair. Beside him, Pidge adjusted her nest of blankets to make herself more comfortable.

Lance hummed at Keith’s side. “You think he’ll be okay?” 

Shiro’s fingers paused. Everyone’s gaze landed on Lance, who continued staring up at the enormous screen. He didn’t seem to want to meet anyone’s gazes and instead found that the battle between the two characters on screen far more interesting. 

Shiro turned to look at Keith. He thought about the frail boy they’d rescued back on Zaaf, who was in so much pain he couldn’t walk, and compared it to the boy in his lap right now. He’d opened up considerably and while there would be more horrors to work through, it was tremendous amounts of progress. Shiro couldn’t be prouder. 

“Yeah,” he said looking back at Lance. “He’ll be fine. I don’t think he’ll ever be the same, but he’ll be okay. Someday.” 

Lance’s lips twitched at the edges. “That’s good to hear.” 

Pidge yawned enormously beside Shiro, taking off her glasses to put them on the floor at the foot of the sofa. She leaned against Shiro’s shoulder, playing with a loose thread in one of her blankets. 

“’M kinda scared though,” she said thickly. 

Shiro frowned a little. “How so?” Pidge sighed, glancing down at Keith. She reached over to feel his arm, fingers trailing over it. She felt the outline of the bandages underneath all of the blankets and her stomach clenched. 

“You remember those wounds, right?” She asked softly. “One of them definitely was from a bullet but the other…” she trailed off. “I don’t know if I want to find out where it came from.”

“Laynek, probably,” Lance’s expression hardened.

Across from them, Allura shifted in the blanket Coran had dug out from one of the closets. She looked at Keith and then Shiro, gearing herself up for her next words. 

“Speaking of...him,” she winced just thinking of Laynek. If Matt’s story held true and Keith’s injuries were anything to go by, he was a force to be reckoned with. A wall of muscle and malice, unafraid to inflict pain upon anything that he deemed unworthy. “Shiro are you sure keeping such a vital piece of information from Keith is truly what’s best?” 

Shiro hesitated. He looked down at Keith, toying with a few strands of hair in between his fingers. It wasn’t as if he were hiding Laynek’s survival from Keith forever, but there was still so much to be said. Keith would be angry when he found out. Terrified, too. There was a chance that as soon as Shiro revealed the truth to him, he’d revert back into the scared boy they’d retrieved from Zaaf. More than anything, Shiro wanted to avoid that, but it was starting to look like their only option. After all, they couldn’t let Laynek run free, especially not after everything he’d done. 

“For now, I think it is,” Shiro answered slowly. “If we tell him right now, I think he’ll never be ready to open up to us fully. I’ll tell him eventually so just...let me deal with the consequences.” 

Allura frowned at him but did not argue. She merely nodded and turned her attention back to the screen. Hunk pursed his lips and leaned around Lance to look at Shiro. 

“No,” he decided. 

“Huh?” 

“You’re not gonna deal with it on your own,” Hunk insisted. “We’re a team - a family. That’s not how we do things around here.” 

“Agreed,” Lance said. “Whatever happens, we do it together. Besides, I think Keith'd like to hear it from everyone.” 

The dark pit that had grown in Shiro’s stomach had started to dissipate a little. In truth, he’d been dreading telling Keith, but had taken the burden due to his status as leader. The others deciding to support him was more comforting than he’d probably ever be able to put into words. 

“Alright,” he said with a smile. “If that’s what you guys want.” 

Lance and Hunk both smiled at him, while Pidge cuddled up to his side. She was asleep in an instant, her head resting next to Keith’s. Lance and Hunk managed to make it through thirty more minutes before they, too, fell asleep, leaning against each other for support. Allura and Coran’s eyes were closed, so Shiro really had no bearing on whether or not they’d done the same, but Coran was snoring so Shiro took that as a ‘yes’. 

He looked around himself at his slumbering family and smiled. He’d always enjoyed intimate moments like these with everyone and tonight was no exception. Even with Keith who had changed almost irreversibly, Shiro appreciated times like these immensely. A time of comfort, where children playing as soldiers finally got the time to relax. 

Shiro leaned into Lance as carefully as he could without bothering Keith too much and let sleep take him too.

 

It took Keith a moment for him to realize he was dreaming. 

At first, sitting on the roof of the cabin in the desert was familiar. He almost truly believed he was back on Earth, searching for answers for that inexclicable energy that pulled at him until he realized there was someone next to him. When Keith turned to see who it was, he realized that he was sleeping. It was his father. His dad only ever showed up where he couldn’t in life - in the dreams Keith would never have in his waking hours. 

It became apparent, though that this dream was not going to be a pleasant one. 

It started when Keith turned to watch his dad. His arm was extended to the stars, tracing invisible constellations with his fingers. He turned to look at Keith, week-old stubble on his chin and then began to  _ melt.  _

It started from his head and then down, blood gushing in dark rivulets over his father’s face and clothing. He began to dissolve into nothing more than gore and chunks of flesh that Keith didn’t want to look at. It was a gruesome sight, staining Keith’s hands and legs with scarlet. Then, out of the gore gleamed two yellow eyes. Laynek began to step out of the waterfalls of blood. His hands extended, reaching for Keith and wrapped tightly around his neck. He gasped, airway constricted. 

A wave of panic followed as Keith scrambled for Laynek’s wrists, consciousness fading away until he was gone and tumbling through blood-streaked skies that dotted his hair and clothes red.

He awoke with a strangled scream when he hit the ground. 

He fell gracelessly off of the sofa and onto the floor, the cold tile chilling his overheated skin. He lay there, blankets tangled around his legs and his heart pounding out of his chest. 

A sob pulled itself from his lips. Then another. And a third. 

Keith curled into a ball, cold metal fingers brushing against his throat. He could still feel bruises there, thick hands wound around his neck and angry yellow eyes looming him from above. God, where was he, where was he? Keith knew Laynek was close, he  _had_ to be, he always  _was-_

“Keith?” 

_ Shiro.  _

Keith all but froze on the cold ground. 

_ Shiro, Shiro, Shiro.  _

“What’s wrong?” Shiro’s voice was thick with sleep as he peered over the couch to look down at Keith sprawled on the ground. He probably looked like a fool; terrified and with tear-tracks dried on his cheeks. 

When Keith didn’t respond, Shiro rubbed the last of the sleep out of his eyes and slid gingerly off the couch. Everyone else (aside from Pidge, who was still out cold on the sofa) had woken up before them and left. Shiro had no idea where they were, but none of that mattered right now. Keith was clearly terrified, tears in his eyes and breathing harsh and ragged. Shiro didn’t have to guess to know what had happened. 

Without hesitating, Shiro reached toward Keith and pulled him into an embrace. Keith trembled in his arms. His hair stuck up in odd directions, pupils blown wide with panic. Shiro wondered briefly what Keith had seen in his nightmare that had scared him so. 

Shiro rocked them back and forth, shushing Keith as soothingly as he could. Keith gripped his shirt, gasping and crying. He blubbered meaningless noises and sounds that were probably supposed to be words but were hardly coherent over his sobs. They wracked his entire body and jolted against Shiro with every rock. 

“Shh...I’m here,” Shiro whispered. “It’s okay, it’s okay. You’re okay.” 

Keith gasped uselessly to try and draw air into his lungs. His tears were wetting Shiro’s shirt. “I-” He broke off into another round of sobs.

“It’s okay,” Shiro hummed. “It’s okay.” He paused as Keith gradually began to still against him. His sobs faded into quiet sniffles and his grip laxed on Shiro’s shirt. Shiro waited a moment longer before speaking. “Do you wanna talk about it?” 

Keith whimpered. “Dad.” 

Shiro had no idea what Keith was talking about, but he felt the dread nonetheless. Keith never talked about his dad, not unless something had happened that  _ truly  _ bothered him. Whatever nightmare Keith had just endured had something to do with his father. 

“What about him?” Shiro pressed. His thumb rubbed circles into Keith’s back, dipping up and over the thin burn scars that marred the surface of his skin. 

“He-” Keith choked. “He  _ melted  _ and Laynek, he,  _ he-”  _

Keith dissolved into more terrified sobs. Shiro bit his lip and pulled Keith closer. Another reason to keep Laynek’s survival a secret from Keith. If he had this kind of effect on Keith in his dreams, what kind of reaction would he have in his waking hours? Shiro wasn’t sure he wanted to find out.

“He  _ choked  _ me-” Keith said, voice butchered by whimpers and shuddering gasps. “Just like--like back  _ then.”  _

_ Back then?  _

Shiro remembered with horrifying clarity the transmission he and the other Paladins had watched. In which the terms of the agreement were discussed and the Galra Shiro now knew was Laynek brutally beat Keith in front of their eyes. Shiro remembered seeing the dark purple bruises forming on Keith’s throat and his stomach clenched.

He’d been right back then. Someone  _ had  _ tried to strangle Keith and that someone was Laynek. 

It was certain now. Shiro would definitely have no qualms about tearing Laynek apart piece by piece and then some. Even then, however, that would be a mercy compared to the horrors he’d forced Keith to undergo. 

_ Bastard.  _

Shiro began to rock their bodies again, holding Keith closer to his chest. “He tried to strangle you.” He said. It wasn’t a question. Keith nodded once. Shiro gritted his teeth. 

“But it’s--it’s okay…” Keith said, breath above a whisper. “He’s dead now a-and now he can’t…” He trailed off, but his unspoken words were left hanging in the air. 

_ He can’t hurt me anymore.  _

Shiro’s stomach was now twisting itself into pretzels. It was a strange mixture of guilt and determination that made him dizzy. He still stood firmly behind his belief that keeping the truth hidden was what was best for Keith’s recovery but…

_ Was it really?  _

Shiro chose not to respond to Keith. Instead, he pressed his cheek into Keith’s hair that had that distinct forest smell that was unique only to him. Smokey and yet fresh - a combination that would forever remind Shiro of Keith.

The door hissed open. Hunk stepped in grinning and wielding a ladle that still had remnants of some kind of soup clinging to the bottom. 

“Rise and-” he spoke loudly and then cut himself off very quickly at the sight on the floor. Shiro glanced up at him as Hunk wasted no time in crossing the room to kneel next to them. He settled a hand gently on Keith’s back, rubbing up and down, before looking at Shiro. “What happened?” His tone was soothing. 

Shiro looked down at Keith, who had slumped a little more against Shiro. “Can I tell him?” He asked softly and Keith nodded once. Shiro looked back up at Hunk. “Nightmare. Laynek tried to strangle him.” He left out the part about Keith's father on purpose, deciding that it was something that was better left between himself and Keith.  Hunk’s expression darkened. He pursed his lips and set his dripping ladle aside to wrap both of his arms around Shiro and Keith. Sandwiched in the middle, Keith whimpered softly. 

“You hungry?” Hunk asked, deciding not to press about the nightmare anymore. “Lance and I warmed up the soup from last night.” 

Keith nuzzled into Shiro’s shirt. He thought about the offer and nodded, his stomach grumbling. He hadn’t eaten any of the soup from last night’s movie marathon and honestly probably could eat the entire pot if he was brave enough. But he wasn’t planning on being sick today, so he’d settle with the meager amount that he knew he was going to get. 

“Okay,” Hunk hummed. “I’ll go pour you a bowl.” He glanced up at Pidge, who was still fast asleep. “I’m guessing she’ll be there for a while?” 

“Yup,” Shiro said. He moved one of his arms around Keith so he could gently brush his fingers through his hair. Keith relaxed further at the touch. “You know how she is.” 

“Boy, do I ever,” Hunk snorted, shaking his head. He looked down at Keith with a soft smile. “We’ll meet you in the kitchen, okay? Coran is telling stories again, so that should be fun.” 

Keith smiled weakly. That did sound like fun. Coran told the best stories. 

Hunk returned the smile carefully and rose, scooping up his ladle. He gave Shiro a look before turning on his heel and leaving the room. Shiro knew what that look meant. Hunk - like Allura - was starting to doubt his decision to keep Laynek’s true status from Keith. Shiro could not blame him. 

He looked down at Keith. “What do you want to do today?” 

Keith paused, considering the question. There was a whole day ahead of him in which he could spend in whatever way he deemed fit. He knew it was going to be full of hardships and triggers, but he was determined to make it through. 

Starting with one, very crucial thing. 

“Can...we head to the training deck?” He asked quietly. 

“The training deck?” Shiro said in surprise. “Why there?” 

“’llura’s got my bayard,” Keith explained. “I-I want to be able to use it again.” 

The image of blood smearing across rusty sword handles jumped to the forefront of Keith’s mind. He swallowed and pushed it away. Shiro’s expression softened. 

“Okay,” he said. He pulled away from Keith and helped him stand. “But breakfast first, okay? Can’t have you face this on an empty stomach.” 

Keith’s stomach moaned in agreement. Indeed, facing demons would be much harder when he was hungry. 

 

Breakfast was largely uneventful. Keith all but scarfed down his soup so fast he made himself nauseous and had to take a pill Coran had tailored to his needs to help keep down the stew. Allura gave Keith’s bayard over to Shiro without much complaint, looking largely relieved that Keith was going to try to use it again. She promised to swing by later to view their progress.  Pidge came wandering in as Keith was helping Hunk wash dishes, her hair sticking up and glasses lopsided on her nose. Hunk did not hesitate to hand her a muffin he’d made a week prior. 

Keith’s heart hurt looking at the muffin. It was stupid, he knew, but he remembered Hunk making those vividly the day before he’d gotten captured. Seeing them again after all he’d been through was bittersweet at best. 

However, the most surreal moment of all was stepping back into the training deck with Shiro. 

Before he was captured, Keith spent an inordinate amount of time here. It was the only place he could blow off steam after an argument with Lance and the only place on the ship that everyone avoided like the plague. Nobody liked training - especially since Allura adored scheduling it early in the morning when nobody cared to get up in the morning. It was a solace for Keith when he didn’t know anyone there and preferred to push them away rather than let them in. He wondered why he hadn’t accepted them as family sooner. They had always been there for him, even if their intentions hadn’t always been taken the right way. 

Shiro smiled as Keith stepped toward him in the middle of the deck. He kept his hoodie on, despite it being restricting. He wasn’t sure he would be able to look at the bandages or his metal arm (as much as he was trying to accept it as a part of him) without hurling. 

Shiro extended his arm. In his fist was Keith’s bayard, dormant and silent. Keith knew that Shiro would be able to activate it (anyone could use anyone’s bayard, after all) but he didn’t. He waited for Keith to take it himself, his metal fingers grazing Shiro’s own. 

The bayard felt odd to hold. Especially after what had happened on the Galra ship. Honestly, Keith was content just using his mother’s knife for the rest of this god-forsaken war, but he knew that wouldn’t do, especially not in the long run. So, he ignored the apprehension seizing his throat and set his sights on the bayard. 

“Go slow,” Shiro encouraged. “Nobody’s forcing you to do anything. Okay?” 

Keith nodded, looking down at the bayard. He remembered slicing at Lotor with it, who danced just out of its reach. That infuriating smile toyed at his perfect lips and Keith gritted his teeth. As terrifying as Lotor was to him now, the Galran prince would never cease to irritate the  _ hell  _ out of him. 

The bayard began to shimmer in his hand. It started to take the form of the familiar broadsword Keith was so used to when Lotor’s smile appeared in the back of his mind again. 

_ Do you think yourself strong?  _ He taunted and almost instantly, the bayard lost its form. 

Shiro frowned a little from across from Keith. “What happened?” 

“I…” Keith’s throat tightened. “Lotor...he....” 

Shiro’s expression darkened. “The duel.” 

Keith nodded once. “Yeah.” 

Shiro sighed and looked up at the ceiling, debating silently. Keith tried to summon the broadsword once again, but as soon as he tried he remembered slicing at Lotor and the world turning upside-down as he was flipped onto his burning back. The broadsword lost form again. 

“Do you remember that fight against Zarkon?” Shiro suddenly asked. Keith’s gaze darted to him. 

“How could I forget?” He murmured. “You went missing after it.” 

Shiro winced. “Yeah, Ik now. I’m...still sorry about that, by the way.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Keith shook his head. “You’re here now.”

Shiro smiled gratefully and stepped towards Keith. He covered the hand holding Keith’s bayard with his own. “Remember how Zarkon was using his bayard in his own mech? And how it changed form all the time?” 

Keith hesitated. “Yeah?” 

“What if we can do that too?” Shiro said. “It wouldn’t surprise me, honestly, so why don’t you try letting the bayard take a different shape? One less...painful for you.” 

Keith looked down at the bayard in his hand. His metal fingers curled and uncurled around the handle experimentally. A new form? It seemed impossible. But if Zarkon - a former Paladin - could do it, there was no reason why Keith shouldn’t be able to, either. 

He closed his eyes and concentrated. The bayard shimmered in his hands and gradually began to take form into something much lighter. He dared to open his eyes as Shiro gasped quietly and looked down at his hand. 

There was a tiny knife in his hand, sleek with a red hilt. A throwing knife, barely smaller than his mother’s knife still tucked away in his hoodie pockets. 

“Wow,” he said quietly. 

“That’s incredible,” Shiro marveled. He took Keith’s wrist carefully and lifted it to examine the sharp blade. Both Keith’s arm and the knife gleamed in the light from the room. “A throwing knife. Kinda fitting.” He huffed out a laugh and smiled over at Keith. “Good job, buddy.” He let Keith’s arm go as he looked down at it. The blade was wickedly sharp. 

Behind them, the door hissed open. Both Keith and Shiro turned around to see Allura enter the room. She was smiling. 

“Allura, look!” Shiro said. He sounded like an overexcited child. “Keith’s bayard changed form!” Allura looked over to confirm and Keith lifted the throwing knife in his hand for her to see. Her entire expression lit up. 

“Incredible!” She said. “Only those with a strong bond to their bayard are able to change its form like that. Well done, Keith.” 

Keith’s cheeks flushed from the praise. “Thanks…” 

“I came here to check up on you, but I see you two are doing fine,” Allura noticed with a smile. “To be entirely honest, I’m rather surprised you’re not using the training helmets.” 

Keith made a face, glancing at the helmets sitting innocently in the corner. He, like everyone else, hated those helmets with a burning passion. Normally, his head was a closed gate where only his thoughts were allowed, but the helmets broke down those walls and allowed his mind to be read easily like an open book. He hated that. 

Shiro looked equally as disgruntled. “Why would he be using them?” 

“For their memory function,” Allura said, blinking in surprise. “Have you forgotten?” 

“Forgotten what?” 

“The helmets allow for the wearers to not only visualize concepts and merge minds, but they also show memories,” Allura said. “Granted, they are only pictures and not full visions, but they are still memories nonetheless.” 

Shiro hummed, looking interested. “Huh...that might actually really help.” 

“Help  _ what?”  _ Keith frowned. 

Shiro looked at him, looking a bit guiltily. “Now, I know you don’t like people going through your head, but-” 

Keith’s heart skipped a beat. He knew what Shiro was implying. “No.” 

Shiro frowned. “Keith, this will be a really good way for us to really understand what happened. And if you show us, it might help you recover a little bit, too.” 

“No,” Keith said firmly. He kept his gaze pointedly away from the helmets. “I-I just...I’m not  _ ready  _ for that right now, okay?” His grip tightened on the throwing knife. He knew that as soon as he turned one of those helmets on around the others it would instantly reveal things he’d rather keep hidden. They’d see every step of his escape attempt, the amputation, and see Laynek’s looming yellow eyes leering at him. 

He wasn’t ready for that.

Not yet, at least. 

Both Allura and Shiro looked crestfallen, but to their credit, they didn’t press. They let the matter drop as Keith turned his head away from them. 

“Sorry,” he murmured, feeling guilty. 

“Nothing to apologize for,” Shiro said with a smile that looked quite forced to Keith. “Do you want to try sparring a little with that knife? Learning how to use it will help you defend yourself.” 

“I can set up a practice range,” Allura said with a smile. “The knife is meant to be thrown, after all.” 

“That’d be great,” Shiro said. “Thanks, Allura.” 

Allura nodded and crossed the room to set up the target practice system Keith hadn’t even known existed until now. Shiro went to go help her and the two chatted idly as Allura began to press in a few buttons into a panel at the back of the room. Keith turned his head, his gaze fixing on the helmets.  His stomach twisted into knots. 

He wasn’t ready for his family to see those memories quite yet, b ut somehow, he knew, it would be something that would become unavoidable. 

Keith just hoped it wasn’t as soon as he was suspecting. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ALMOST FORGOT TO POST TODAY I'M SORRY
> 
> But I did manage to get this done just in time haha and it's longer than usual! I'm not too proud of the ending, though, so I might go and rewrite it later when I've got the time. I've been so distracted this week between school and the new Keith-centric whump fic I'm writing, but hey! I did end up remembering just in time. 
> 
> Poor Keith can't seem to catch a break, but honestly, I'm actually kind of proud of the new bayard form thing. I actually came up with this as I was writing it because I'd like to see some other form that the bayards could go into and a throwing knife just felt super fitting for Keith. 
> 
> Also, storytime, remember my 'e' key breaking? Welp, it broke off entirely now and it hurts to type on my regular laptop keyboard for long periods of time so I just plugged in another keyboard into the laptop to help me write. It's super weird and clunky and the screen is kind of hard to see while I'm writing, but hey, it works! Hopefully, I can take the laptop in to be fixed because this is super annoying haha
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed reading! Leave a comment if you did, I'd love to hear from you! :D 
> 
> See you all next week! <3


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who knew cleaning could get so heartfelt?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't beta-read, so all mistakes are on me. 
> 
> Enjoy!

It was Castle Cleaning Day.

Keith became aware of this as soon as he stepped outside of the bathroom, rubbing a towel over his wet hair. Lance and Hunk came sprinting by, holding a bucket and a stack of rags between them. Keith paused at the door, looking after them and wondering what he was supposed to do. He wasn't entirely useless after everything he'd been through and while it was nice to see everyone _try_ to return to some kind of routine after what had happened, he still wasn’t all that sure where he fit in.

He left the towel hanging around his shoulders and put his hands in his hoodie pockets to grip the hilt of his Luxite blade. At this rate, he’d be better off tracking down Coran and asking him how he could help. More likely than not Coran would find Keith’s recovery a more important task, but there was no harm in asking.

With this in mind, Keith stepped out of the doorway and collided with Pidge.

She made a tiny ‘oof!’ noise and stumbled a little. Keith bumped back into the doorframe.

“Oh shit, Keith,” Pidge said, blinking at him. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you were getting out of the bathroom.”

“It’s fine,” Keith eyed the various cleaning supplies piled into her arms. “Today’s Cleaning Day then, huh?”

Pidge made a face. “Allura’s idea. Everything’s been so crazy lately she wanted us to ‘return to routine’ as she put it.”

Keith hummed. He could understand that. After everything he’d been through, going back to the same somewhat predictable schedule on the Castle sounded like a godsend.

“So what are you cleaning?” He asked.

“My room,” Pidge said. She shifted awkwardly on the balls of her feet, looking away. “Do… do you want to help?”

Keith paused. He thought about the rat’s nest that everyone knew was Pidge’s room and felt incredibly disheartened to help her sort out the mess. But if Coran was just going to shoot his offer to help down and force him to wander aimlessly while everyone else worked…

Keith would rather feel like he was doing something worthwhile than not doing something at all.

“Sure,” he said.

“Great!” Pidge beamed. “I...haven’t been in my room much so…it’s better than--than usual. That’ll make cleaning easier.” She chewed on her lower lip, looking away. Keith knew the hidden implications of what she was saying. She hadn’t been in her room because of his capture. Because of the shroud of uncertainty and panic that had shrouded the Castle for eight days.

Keith ignored the sensation of someone breathing down his neck ( _"W_ _ere you proud of this wound, Prisoner?")_ and gave Pidge a tiny smile. “Okay.”

He followed her toward the Paladin’s rooms and stopped in front of her door. It slid open and she stepped inside.

Despite Pidge saying her room was better than usual, it was still messy beyond belief. Dirty clothes had made a home in a corner by the closet. There were piles of machinery and a strange sculpture made of trash that looked oddly like Lance lying in the corner. One of the strange creatures Pidge had started calling ‘Trash Floofs’ was sitting on its head. Near every inch of the floor had spare wires and floating Altean platters with remnants of snacks Pidge had snuck into her room.

Keith flicked over a styrofoam cup. “Are we still not allowed to eat in our rooms or has that rule changed in the past eight days?” He teased.

Pidge shot him a dirty look. “I won’t tell Shiro if you won’t.” She brushed off her dresser (a cascade of bottles and computer parts went flying off the top) and set down the things in her arms on top.

Keith stood there awkwardly, very interested by a brown stain that looked suspiciously like the hot cocoa Hunk constantly made for her on one of Pidge’s blankets. “So…?”

“Start cleaning,” Pidge shrugged. She picked up a few stray wrappers and stuffed them into a trash bag. “I don’t care where you put stuff. I’ll find it eventually.”

Keith hummed and reached out for her sheets to change them. He pointedly ignored his metal fingers and pulled the blankets off in one go, wrapping them into a ball and stepping over a half-built machine with a red wire sticking out of it to get to the laundry chute. He opened it with his foot and slid the pile of sheets and blankets down the sleek metal pipe. Pidge squeezed past him a moment later to start piling as many clothes as she could after the blankets.

The pair cleaned in silence. It was at the very least comfortable; Keith and Pidge had never needed many words, after all. They were the most socially inept of the team and there was a mutual understanding that no words were needed to know the other was there.

Keith picked his way across the considerably cleaner floor to check under the bed for any spare clothes or trash that Pidge had sneakily stashed under. He leaned forward awkwardly on the ground, using his metal hand to brace himself against the ground and blinked in surprise.

It was _him._

Or rather, a trash replica of him that Pidge had done an uncannily good job on. She’d even managed to get the mullet down.

Keith couldn’t stop himself from asking about it. “Pidge?”

“Hm?” She had busied herself with trying to sort out her mess of a closet, so her voice was muffled.

“What’s this?”

“What’s what?”

Keith seized trash-him’s arm and pulled it out from under the bed. Pidge turned to look and colored almost instantly.

“Oh. That,” she said.

“So there’s one for me _and_ Lance?” Keith glanced at the trash-Lance sitting in the corner. The green floof on the top regarded him sleepily, the lights under its eyes blinking.

“A-And everyone else!” Pidge said defensively. She turned back to her closet and mumbled something under her breath.

Keith tilted his head. “What was that?”

Pidge went even redder. “I-I was lonely, okay!”

Keith blinked. “What?”

Pidge sighed and stepped away from the precariously-perched pile of boxes she was trying to organize. She maneuvered around their trash bag and sank down in front of Keith. She dug around under the bed and proceeded to pull out a replica of Shiro, Hunk, Allura, and even Coran from the depths.

“I got lonely,” she muttered.

Keith narrowed his eyes. He didn’t understand. She saw them all near every day. “I...don’t know what you mean.”

“Remember when we tried to escape through that wormhole and...um…” she hesitated. “ _She_ corrupted it?”

Keith was grateful for the avoidance of Haggar’s name. Pidge was clearly trying in her own way to help Keith recover, but that didn’t stop the chill that raced up his spine when he thought of the witch.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. He remembered seeing Shiro with a glowing purple wound and forcing a bond with Black to save him. The weak voice of his older brother asking Keith to lead Voltron should he not make it. It was not Keith’s fondest memory.

“Well, I came out of the wormhole to this like...trash universe,” said Pidge. “I met the trash floofs there, but they don’t make for good conversation. So I got lonely and...made you guys.”

Keith’s lips twitched into a smile. “And you kept them?”

“F-For memory’s sake! A-And the floofs seem to really like them so…” she reached out to pet the yellow one that had floated over to bump against her cheek.

Keith smiled a little, but couldn’t find the words to respond. He glanced down at trash-him and instinctively looked down at the right arm. It was a spitting image of him save for that. This version of him still had a right arm. Still had the drive to protect and to _live_ that was stronger than anything. Keith did not have that. Not anymore.

His smile fell. His shoulder - where the last remnants of his right arm lay - had begun to throb.

“Are you okay?” Pidge asked quietly. Keith looked up and felt something squeeze his heart uncomfortably. He couldn’t very well lie and say he was fine because he wasn’t. He wasn’t going to be fine for a long time. He had so much to worry about. The metal arm, his new scars, his escape attempt that haunted him so…

He would never be fine. Not in the way he was before this.

He shook his head once and Pidge’s expression fell.

“Is...there anything I can do...to help?”

Keith paused. His spirits sunk lower. Likely, the only thing she could do to help was listen to him talk. Get everything that was burdening him off his chest, but the best way to do that was with those helmets. That way, she could see the full picture. Keith wanted to avoid those helmets as much as he possibly could.

But it was starting to look like the only option.  

Keith didn’t look up to meet Pidge’s gaze. He kept his eyes fixed firmly down on his fingers, picking and pulling at his metal thumb. He hated the sight of it still, but anything was better than looking at Pidge’s heartbroken expression right now.

At least until something hit Keith full-force in the face.

He let out an alarmed shriek as a ball of green fur hit him square in the nose with a surprising amount of force. He reeled backward, catching himself on his elbows as the green trash floof rocketed from its spot on trash-Lance's head and started rubbing itself into his face. Keith gave Pidge a dumbfounded look. She returned it, the yellow caterpillar still hovering over her shoulder. Then a split second later, she snickered and then burst into full-on laughter.

Keith moved his face away only to have the green floof practically toss itself at him again, the lights on its cheeks flickering madly.

“Pidge, what is going on?” Keith asked, trying to ignore the strange sensation of a creature with an absurd amount of soft fur nuzzling his cheek. Pidge seemed to laugh harder at his question, doubling over with her arms wrapped around her midsection. She tried to explain through gasps of laughter but burst into a fit of giggles every time she looked at the green caterpillar. It only served to make Keith even more confused.

The green floof made a soft trilling noise in his ear.

“Pidge,” Keith said again, a bit more desperately. For all he knew, the caterpillar had decided he looked like a very tasty snack and wanted to have him for lunch. For all he knew about it, that might as well have been true.

“Okay, okay!” Pidge sniffed, rubbing tears of mirth from her eyes. “I-It’s just the floofs they--they can sense really powerful emotion.”

“They can?” Keith eyed the green fur out of the corner of his eye.

“Yeah,” Pidge grinned. “They respond to it, too. If it’s happiness they kind of hang around you and their lights make noises. If it’s something more negative, they rub their face into yours. It’s...surprisingly comforting.” Her tone turned melancholy. Keith paused. Now that the initial panic of getting dive-bombed by a floating ball of fur had dissolved, he realized that he _was_ indeed starting to feel better. The lingering sadness and anxiety that had been near chest-caving was starting to fade.

He smiled and reached up to rub the green floof’s back with a finger. It (or rather its _lights)_ made another trilling noise.

Pidge’s own smile was a bit sad as she watched. “They helped a lot while you were…” she cleared her throat and looked away. “Well, you know.” And Keith did know. But the reminder of what he had been through felt less daunting. He felt braver now with all of the anxiety and fear finally fading with the green floof’s presence.

“Thanks, buddy,” he told the floof.

Pidge patted the yellow one that she was now holding in her palm. “Do you want to name it?”

“Name it?” Keith paused. “Haven’t you already done that?”

Pidge shrugged. “Lance named it Verde a while back, but that didn’t really stick.”

“Hm…” Keith gently picked up the trash floof. It blinked owlishly at him from its new spot on the palm of his hand. “How about Piccione?”

Pidge considered the name for a moment and then started, realizing the name. “Like...pigeon?”

“Yeah,” Keith said with a smile. “It’s the only Italian word I know and since you’re Italian and your nickname is ‘Pidge’ and it’s green like your Lion…” He trailed off, realizing he was rambling.

Pidge’s cheeks were a light shade of red. She looked pleased. “I like it.”

“Me too,” Keith said quietly. Piccione bumped gently into his nose. “What about the yellow one? What should we name it?”

Pidge grinned. “It’s already named.”

“It is?”

“Azul,” she said. “Blue in Spanish. Also courtesy of Lance. Apparently, he just wanted to name these guys after colors, but I like Azul.”

“But...it’s yellow?”

“A mishap,” Pidge said with a laugh. “Long story short, if you ever need to dye your hair for any reason, Lance and I know how.”

Keith snorted. That was a story he knew was better left unsaid.

Pidge looked around her at the new mess that had been made from the reveal of her trash-teammates. “We should get back to work.” She said, standing up and brushing off her shorts. “This room isn’t gonna clean itself. Unfortunately.” Keith nodded, reaching out for his trash-self. He lifted it and put it in the corner with Lance’s replica and proceeded to pile the rest of the trash team onto each other. It ended up looking a bit awkward, but Pidge smiled over at it and Keith decided to keep it.

Piccione hovered around Keith’s shoulder for the remainder of the cleaning. Even as he left the room to get a new trash bag, the caterpillar was never too far behind. Its favorite place seemed to be just over his shoulder, where it seemed comfortable to offer support that Keith didn’t know he could get from a tiny little ball of fur.

It was near sundown (or at least the Castle’s version of sundown) by the time they finished. Fresh sheets had been put over Pidge’s bed and all of her blankets were in the wash to be out before she went to bed that night. The floor was clear, most of her projects finding an impromptu home in her closet.

Keith folded his arms, smiling a little. He felt immensely better with Piccione to help silently support him. Somehow, some strange little trash floof had the ability to help soothe what the others could not. It was a relief from the crushing pain and doubt he’d been drowning in since he’d returned to the castle.

“We make a good team,” he told Pidge.

“Yeah,” Pidge said. “We should clean together more often.”

Keith pet Piccione, who had nestled itself into his palm. “Yeah. We should.”

“And uh…” Pidge shifted. “I-If you wanna keep Piccione for a bit, that’s fine too.”

Keith looked at her in surprise. “You sure? I don’t want to take him if you need him-”

“I’ve got Azul,” Pidge said. “Besides, Piccione seems to really like you and he’s helping you feel better. If this is how I can help you feel better, however indirectly, I want to do it. So keep him, but promise you’ll take care of him!”

Keith smiled as Piccione bumped into his cheek again. “Okay. I will, I promise. And I’ll bring him back, too.”

Pidge crossed her arms behind her back, rocking back and forth on her feet. “But only when you’re feeling better.”

“Okay,” Keith agreed. “Only when I’m feeling better.”

Piccione’s lights trilled.

Pidge stretched her arms over her head. “We should get going. Dinner isn’t going to eat itself.”

Keith’s stomach growled. He had to agree - he was absolutely _starving._

“Good idea,” he said. “Let’s go eat.”

They left Pidge’s newly cleaned room together and headed into the kitchen. The others were already there, waiting, with bowls of leftover soup. Chatter was loud and when Keith took his place next to Shiro, he smiled down at the soup that now filled his bowl to the brim.

No one asked why there was a green trash floof that was now following Keith around. Instead, they all gave Pidge a knowing look and returned to dinner. Apparently, everyone was aware of the space caterpillar's mysterious ability over emotion.

Piccione settled on Keith’s head. He smiled, putting his spoon down to pet the caterpillar. He felt peaceful, content. He couldn’t find it in himself to stop smiling. For once, his torture was just a distant thought at the back of his mind. While he was with his family, nothing mattered but that exact moment.

Keith wanted to hold onto that feeling for the rest of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea for the trash-floofs sensing emotion came in part from [amicuscordis's](https://amicuscordis.tumblr.com/search/trash%20floof) fic where the floofs can sense heartbreak. It's a good read, so I do recommend! But it does have Plance, for everyone who is disinterested in either the ship or ships in general. 
> 
> Anyways, this chapter ended up being a lot fuzzier than I intended. Originally, I was gonna have Keith's bandages rip and he'd have a panic attack seeing the scars, but I decided this would be better. And I've gotten surprisingly attached to the floofs after writing them. 
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! It was fun to write and I was grinning like a maniac the entire time. Leave a kudos/comment if you'd like to, it would make my day to hear from you! 
> 
> See you all next Saturday! <3


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Red Lion manages to get to the bottom of Keith's true fear about the helmets. Allura eavesdrops.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't beta-read, so all mistakes are on me. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Whatever respite Keith got in his waking hours, it simply wasn’t to be when he was asleep.

Piccione’s ability over emotion only did so much, and after Keith woke up to a face-full of green fur for the fifth time that night, he decided that sleeping was not going to happen. Chasing away the last vestiges of haunting yellow eyes and an unnerving laugh, Keith reached blindly for his blanket to draw it tight around his shoulders. He sighed heavily, Piccione bumping gently into his cheek. He chased away a bit of the lingering anxiety, but not enough of it. Keith felt sick with worry and knew that there was only one thing that could help alleviate it.

_Red._

Standing on unsteady legs, Keith threw his hand out to brace it against the wall. He sucked in a breath through his teeth, trying not to think about the inescapable feeling of being _followed._ Of being _watched._

A feeling he was sure would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Piccione trilled softly as Keith picked his way across his empty bedroom and opened the door. He hovered over Keith’s shoulder as he stepped out into the cold hallway. The Castle was silent. Still. Keith used to prefer these times. Now they just unnerved him.

The floor was cold under Keith’s bare feet as he made his way down to the hangars. He could already feel Red tugging and pulling, beckoning him closer. He made himself relax with her familiar presence in the back of his head.

The hangar door slid open loudly in front of him. Keith briefly worried about waking the others, but any other thought was chased out of his mind as Red _purred._  She was still, standing proud, golden eyes observing Keith silently.

“Hey, Red,” he murmured stepping into the hangar. He padded toward her, keeping his blanket tight around his shoulders. Piccione made a home in his hair. Red leaned down to regard him.

 _My Paladin seems troubled,_ she purred. Keith winced, trying not to remember the torturous nightmares where he ran and ran with Laynek chasing and he never found the exit.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Is it okay...if I stay here for a bit?”

_My Paladin can stay as long as he needs._

Keith’s lips twitched at the rush of love that caught him a bit off guard. He sank down next to one of Red’s massive paws. She lowered her head next to him to watch him silently. Keith reached out to place his hand just under her eye but caught sight of the prosthetic glinting in the dim light and faltered.

Red purred, nudging him through their link.

“Sorry,” Keith murmured, dropping his hand. “I just...I don’t know if I’ll ever be over this…”

A strange mixture of rage and concern flooded down the link. _My Paladin has not discussed this with his teammates yet?_

“No,” Keith shook his head. “I...don’t think I’ll ever be able to, honestly.” He paused. “Allura proposed of a way for me to _show_ rather than _tell_ what happened but...I’m scared of what they’ll think when they see the truth.”

If mechanical space cats could frown, Red was most certainly doing so. _What is this way?_

“Training helmets,” Keith said. “They show what you’re thinking about in an image. Allura said it worked with memories, too.”

Red nudged him gently. Keith nearly toppled off her paw. _And you are afraid of this method?_

“N-No!” Keith denied. “I-I just-” he paused. The incredulity was rolling off of their link in _waves._ “O-Okay, maybe I’m just a little scared but-”

_What does my Paladin fear?_

“About what?”

_About letting his teammates know the truth?_

Keith faltered. “I…”

There really was nothing to fear when it came to his teammates. They had been nothing but loving and accepting since he’d staggered out of the cryopod. There was nothing to fear from them - they would never hurt him.

So what was it that scared him about the helmets so?

“I think…” Keith licked his lips. “I think it’s less that I’m afraid to let them know what happened and more that...I’m afraid...to remember.”

The words struck a chord in him that reverberated down their link. Keith knew he had struck gold with his own emotions. Living the memories had been bad enough. Remembering them in real-time, all to help his teammates understand the worst of the imprisonment, _terrified_ him. He’d already suffered those memories once. He was not eager to do it again.

Red’s nose brushed against Keith’s prosthetic arm. _Remembering is a step toward acceptance._

“But…” Keith’s throat tightened. “I don’t _want_ to accept what happened to me. Because it’s not _right._ I shouldn’t have to accept something like this!” His anger rose with every word. He felt sick. All anyone had been telling him was to accept and move on without ever realizing that it was _impossible._ No one could look back at merciless torture and accept it. No one deserved such a fate. Keith shouldn’t have to look back on the past eight days and simply move on. It wasn’t _right._

Piccione trilled and nuzzled into his neck. Keith sighed, resting his forehead in his hands. His head pulsed. “Sorry,” he murmured.

 _No,_ Red said. _My Paladin is right. No one should have to accept such a thing. But he cannot let it control him._

Keith’s breath stuttered.

Keith couldn’t find a rebuttal. There wasn’t one. Red was right.

He didn’t have to combat his torture with acceptance. It was wrong to look back and realize all the pain he’d endured was something better left forgotten. Those eight days had grown to change him. Break him.

But Keith would _not_ let them define him.

He’d combat these memories head-on. He’d fight them with his teammates by his side. Just as Shiro said, it wasn’t him against the world anymore. He had his family with him now, who’d been with him through everything. They wouldn’t abandon him. They’d fight with him.

“Okay,” Keith said softly. A swell of love brushed down the link.

“Keith?”

Keith startled and nearly fell off of Red’s paw. Tense and alert, he fumbled with his mother’s knife still tucked in his hoodie and cursed when he dropped it with a clatter. He spun around to see who had snuck up on him and caught sight of white cloud hair. He allowed himself to relax near instantly. It was Allura.

_Just Allura._

Red purred in the back of his head. Keith awkwardly slid off her paw to retrieve his knife.

“I apologize if I startled you,” Allura said, stepping around Red to face Keith. He tried to smile apologetically but it came out more like a grimace.

“All good,” he murmured. “Uh...did you...need something?”

“Not particularly,” Allura murmured. “I was taking a late-night stroll and heard voices. I should have known it was a Paladin talking to his lion.” She gave him a tiny smile and looked up at Red. She regarded Allura with golden eyes.

“So you heard us?” Keith asked.

“I apologize for eavesdropping,” Allura stepped forward. She placed her palm on Red’s nose, who purred. “But...if you don’t mind me asking, does this mean you are ready to attempt the headsets?”

Keith paused. Up until a little while ago, he’d thought the very same. The thought of the helmets terrified him to no end. Now, he thought, he’d be able to face them.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “I think so.”

Allura turned to him with a smile. “Then we shall. I’ll make sure the others know and following breakfast tomorrow we will meet in the training hall.”

“Tell Hunk to prepare his stomach,” Keith said lightly. He’d meant it as a joke, but he could tell from the way Allura’s lips pursed it was not well-received. She palmed Red’s nose for a moment longer and then turned to Keith. Her expression was set.

“Keith, I would like you to know something,” Allura said quietly. “No matter what we may see tomorrow, know that we are proud of you.”

Keith blinked. “What?”

“I was discussing it with Coran just a varga ago,” Allura said. “Your recovery has been going well. You are closer than ever to acceptance.”

Keith’s gut flared with rage.

No, he wasn’t going to accept anything. Nothing about what he’d been through was okay. Nothing about what he’d lost was okay. It wasn’t worth accepting. He’d move on, sure, but the memories would remain. He wasn’t going to accept what happened, he was going to _overcome_ it. And he was going to make sure his horrible memories knew it.

“I’m not accepting anything,” Keith said, anger laced in-between his words. Allura turned to him, surprised.

“Pardon?”

“I’m not accepting _shit,”_ Keith said, a bit more forcefully. “Everything that happened to me...everything I _went_ through...I can’t accept it. I _never_ will be able to accept it because that means there was a _reason_ why I went through all of this. There was no reason. So, I won’t accept it.”

Allura’s mouth had fallen open. “Keith-”

“I’m not going to accept anything,” Keith said. “I’m going to kick those memories’ asses and show them what a Red Paladin really is.”

Allura hesitated. She stared at Keith in silence for a full minute. Then, her lips began to pull backward. She began to smile.

“A worthy statement from a Red Paladin of Voltron,” she said. “Well done, Keith. Let us combat these memories together.”

“Yeah,” Keith smirked. He finally felt whole again, without the reminder of everything that had happened weighing him down. Piccione trilled on his shoulder. “Let’s.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's so short but it's all I can manage for today, I'm sorry! I got horribly sick really fast (I'm pretty sure it's food poisoning?) and was only able to post what I had edited the night before. I think it ended off pretty well though, because the next chapter is hard to get through. After all, it's Keith finally confronting the worst of his demons. 
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I'm going to go rest for a bit, but please leave comments/kudos so I know you enjoyed it. Your words make my day! :D 
> 
> I'll see you all next Saturday! <3


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The helmets don't work as well as Allura thought they would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't beta-read, so all mistakes are on me. 
> 
> Enjoy!

As brave as Keith felt the night before, actually _holding_ the helmet in his hands was starting to make him feel dizzy. Around him, his family sat in a tight circle, each with a helmet of their own. It was Allura’s idea; the helmets would help everyone understand what Keith felt in that instant. Fear, rage, _pain_ they would feel it all. Maybe that was what was causing Keith to reconsider his choice. They’d feel the hopelessness, his limitless resolve crumbling into nothing.

Shiro opened his mouth and then closed it again, pursing his lips. He reached out, setting a hand on Keith’s shoulder in a silent show of support. Keith was grateful.

“We don’t have to do this, you know,” Shiro said softly. “We can wait.”

Keith brushed his thumb over the Altean technology. “I know.” With a rush of courage, he lifted the helmet and put it over his head. It flattened his hair to his forehead. He wasn’t going to back down. Not now. His family deserved answers. He deserved some sort of closure.

“Okay, Paladins,” Coran said. He was sitting to the left of Lance, directly opposite Keith. “This is going to be a... _new_ experience for all of you. As the helmets amplify the Voltron bond, any emotion Keith feels while reliving this will be transferred to all of us.”

“Including you?” Hunk asked.

“Yes,” Coran said grimly. “The helmets will give me a temporary look into the bond all of you share. I would like to see...and experience what Keith has along with the rest of you.”

“I believe this will help,” Allura said confidently. “It will be hard. Harder than any mission we have been given thus far but...I believe we will be able to persevere.”

“Take your time, Keith,” Shiro said. He reached over to put his hand on Keith’s knee. “No one is forcing you to do anything. If you need a break or to stop for any reason, do it.” Keith nodded slowly. His throat felt dry. Everyone was looking at him with a mixture of apprehension and resolve. Keith wished he could mirror it.

“Ready?” He asked quietly. There was a flurry of movement around him; six people nodding in tandem. Keith reached out on either side of him, to grasp both Shiro and Pidge’s hands in his own, and shut his eyes. He felt them squeeze back with equal force.

And Keith lost himself to the memories.

The first thing that came up was the _adrenaline._ Keith knew what image had appeared without needing to open his eyes. He was already reliving it, running with his arm gouged by claws and a foot aching with every step. His grip on Shiro’s hand tightened, though he couldn’t feel it. He feared the metal of his arm would bend and break with the force.

A ghostly familiar pain shot through him. A bullet sinking into his shoulder. Keith stumbling, reaching for the nearest door and near toppling inside. Taking his quilt-bandages and wrapping them as best he could around the wounds. Fabric wet with red blood.

Beside him, Pidge gave a little intake of air. “It wasn’t Laynek that did that to you.”

Keith shook his head, finally slowly opening his eyes. He didn’t dare look up at the image floating in front of him. “I shot the Galran that did it,” he said hoarsely. Immediately, the image flickered and changed to a new memory. Of Keith pressing the barrel of a blaster into the guard’s gut and firing. “And...I killed the other one.” A bullet straight through the forehead of a terrified-looking Galran was next. Keith’s throat felt tight.

As one, the Paladins shuddered. He’d unwittingly sent a wave of emotion down the bond that had been amplified by the helmets. Guilt, fear, _regret._ All of it at once.

Lance’s hands were shaking.

Keith reeled back the emotions as quickly as he’d released them. “Sorry.”

Shiro reached around awkwardly to grasp Keith’s shoulder with his free hand. “Don’t apologize. We all knew what we were signing up for.” But as Keith looked around at his teammates, he wasn’t sure they were ready for the sheer amount of _loss_ that radiated off of every memory.

“Sorry,” he said again, despite himself. Pidge squeezed his hand.

“So that’s how you got out of your cell,” Lance spoke. His voice was thick.

“Mhm…” Keith nodded. He shut his eyes. “I tried to go for my bayard...I thought I knew where it was but…” He remembered pushing past brittle handles, smearing blood over rusting swords. He was hunting for something that wasn’t there to begin with.

“It was gone,” Hunk supplied.

“Yeah,” Keith whispered. “It was. So I kept running.”

He remembered the dizzying amounts of blood, the world spinning from pain. Staggering into a room to escape a troop of sentries on the prowl for him. Ripping apart a quilt with his injured arm and a knife. He remembered looking at the claw shape wounds and reaching for them and-

All at once, something _changed. Shifted._ No longer was Keith fighting for his life in a deadly escape, he was pinned to a table. A flash of colors behind Keith’s eyelids - red, purple, _yellow_ \- had him reeling and the whole team sucked in a loud gasp as one. Instantly, Keith’s fingers curled around the helmet and yanked it off of his head. His hands were trembling.

_“Were you proud of this wound, Prisoner?”_

Keith’s throat felt tight. His head spun. Everything felt disconnected, like he was just observing something horrible from afar. His arm pulsed with a long-forgotten pain. He gripped it, feeling the raised scars through the bandages and his sleeve. Keith choked on nothing, panic gripping his head. He couldn’t think straight. All he could feel was that inescapable urge to _run run run_ before they caught him before they took something else of his-

“Breathe.”

The command did not come as a comforting voice. Rather, it came out deep and menacing. A rasp of a voice. One reminiscent of the harsh desert winters back home.

“No…” Keith squeezed his eyes shut. His flesh fell from bloodied claws like horrible fleshy streamers. “ _No!”_

“Keith!”

All at once, there was an explosion of _feeling._ Something warm, with a steady beat, was pressing against his face. Something reassuring was wrapped around his back. Something secure.

“Sh...iro?” Keith rasped. His vision cleared. His cheek was rubbing against Shiro’s chest. He could hear his surrogate brother’s heartbeat pounding. Around him, his family had gathered, expressions taught with worry. Hunk was half-reaching toward him, looking both hurt and afraid all at once. “Guys…”

Allura’s expression sank into relief. Lance released a breath he’d been holding.

“Are you okay?” Hunk whispered.

“You... _flipped_ after Hunk told you to breathe,” Lance added.

Keith swallowed heavily. He felt sweaty and gross. Guilt crawled up his stomach. “Sorry...I thought...I thought…” He choked on nothing and stopped talking. It hurt to breathe.

“What...was that?” Pidge asked. “We saw Laynek, your arm, and then just felt _so much_ at once. Then...you freaked out.”

Keith dry-sobbed, closing his eyes. He hadn’t realized the reminder of his makeshift bandages would have thrown him into one of his worst flashbacks yet. He wasn’t as prepared to face Laynek’s torment as he thought he was.

“Keith?” Shiro pressed. His voice was reassuring. Grounding. Keith could have burst into tears just from that alone.

“I’m sorry,” Keith shut his eyes. “That memory...it’s…” He paused. His metal arm felt heavier upon his shoulders. His scars still pulsed with pain that had yet to be forgotten. “It’s a bad one,” he finished lamely.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Coran scooted in a bit closer. He reached out hesitantly and when Keith didn’t flinch away, placed his hand on his knee.

On the contrary, Keith did _not_ want to talk about it. He would have liked to forget it even happened. But after last night, with that rush of courage to tell the others just _what_ he had endured, to show the universe just what a Red Paladin could be…he didn’t feel like he had much of a choice in the matter. His teammates deserved to know. And the burden of that experience would no longer rest on his shoulders alone. If there was one thing his father taught him, it was that internalizing things would only make the memories worse. The only way to truly be free of something haunting was to open up about it.

With that thought in mind, Keith raised his gaze to meet Coran’s. He gave one short nod.

“No helmets,” he said quietly. “Not this time.”

“No helmets,” Coran agreed.

Keith licked his lips. He snuggled into Shiro’s side (Pidge pressed herself into him as he did so. Whether she knew she did or not was completely up for debate) and geared himself up to speak. “After Lotor...caught me, he...put me back into the experimentation room th-that Haggar used to try and get information out of my head from.” He felt Shiro stiffen underneath him. “When I woke up...Laynek...he…” Keith broke off, shuddering violently.

Shiro rubbed circles into Keith’s back.

“Don’t...push too hard,” Lance said anxiously.

“Yeah, we can wait as long as you need,” Hunk agreed. Keith nodded but didn’t back down.

“He was angry…” Keith said. “He was always angry, but this time he was... _sc_ _ary._ I was so tired and _defeated -_ I guess -  from failing to escape that I...I didn’t fight back or anything. He took my arm - the one that has already been ripped up - and... _and…”_

Keith shut his eyes. The image of bloody skin, strips falling to the floor and crimson splattering all over Laynek’s hands and the table came to mind. There was so much blood. So much _pain._

“And?” Pidge prompted gently. She was pressing him for more, but it gave the impression of being swept along rather than pushed.

“And he tore it open,” Keith whispered. “Over and _over_ again. He just...destroyed my arm...”

“The scar,” Hunk breathed. He looked like he was about to be sick. Keith nodded, gripping his wrist with his prosthetic hand.

“I-It probably would have scarred either way but…” Keith shuddered.

“There is something far worse about it being a sign of torture rather than a sign of defiance,” Allura supplied. Her face was twisted into an expression unknown for her. Sympathy, perhaps? Rage?

“Yeah,” Keith whispered.

“That bastard,” Lance growled. His tone was venomous. “When I find him, I’m going to rip him limb from fucking _limb.”_

Ice flooded Keith’s veins.

There was something very, _very_ wrong with what Lance had just said.

“...when?” He repeated hoarsely. All at once, Lance’s expression melted into horror. Shiro stiffened underneath him.

“Um…” Lance panicked, scrambling for a new answer. “If! Yeah, I meant if! Like ‘if he was still alive I’d tear him limb from limb’. Yeah.” He laughed nervously. It did nothing to sedate the _horrible_ feeling that had settled like cement in Keith’s stomach.

“What do you mean ‘when’?” He asked. He was afraid he already knew the answer.

Gazes turned to Shiro and then to each other. It did not bode well.

“Keith,” Allura was the one to speak. “There is...something you must know. Something we have been... _keeping_ from you.”

“No,” Keith said hoarsely. Horror clogged his airway. “ _No.”_

“Allura,” Shiro said gently. “Let me.”

“Shiro-” Pidge weakly protested but Shiro silenced her with a single look.

“Keith,” Shiro looked down at him. “About what Lance said-”

“ _No,”_ Keith was near hysterical. “He’s dead I _saw_ Matt stab him, he’s _dead!”_

“Keith, listen to me,” Shiro said. “There were some... _complications_ with the way Matt stabbed him. Under normal circumstances, he should have died but-”

“ _No!”_ Keith’s throat was rubbed raw from the force of his scream. “No, you’re _lying!”_

“Keith, he’s not lying,” Hunk said. He reached out but Keith violently flinched away. Ripping himself from Shiro’s grip, he hit the ground back first ( _Lotor moved so fast Keith could hardly keep up, his legs swiping out Keith’s own from under him. The world turned upside down, the burns on his back screamed-)_ and cried out. The helmet toppled from his lap with a loud clatter.

The world seemed too small. The training deck’s walls were too close and too far, all at once. His head pounded, his hands were clammy and cold. An invisible weight was settling down on his chest.

“No,” he said again. His voice was raspier than usual.

“There is no nice way of saying it,” Pidge whispered. There could be no beating around the bush. Not with Keith staring at them, panic and _betrayal_ in his eyes. He looked so, so _scared._ Lance bit his lip, shifting awkwardly.

“Keith,” Shiro spoke. “Laynek is alive.”

“ _No!”_ Keith screamed again and somehow, it was the worst sound any of them had ever heard.

“Keith, I’m sorry-” Lance tried to speak.

“You’re _lying!”_ Keith shouted. He felt so _betrayed._ These were the people he was supposed to trust. To love unconditionally and receive their love in return. They didn’t keep secrets. That wasn’t how they _worked._

So how did it come to Keith being on the receiving end of one of their biggest secrets of all?

Lance moved forward. “You weren’t supposed to figure it out…not until you were a bit better.”

Somehow, the fact that he wasn’t even supposed to _know_ felt _worse._

“Why?” Keith poured every ounce of emotion into his voice as possible. “ _Why?!”_

Shiro chewed his lip. A habit of his when he felt guilty. At this point, Keith did not feel any pity for him. He had kept something so damaging from him. They _all_ had. They had all agreed to it.

“We thought it would be best for your recovery,” Allura said.

“Bull _shit!”_ Keith yelled. His throat _ached._

“It’s true,” Lance said anxiously. “We all decided that it’d be better for you to recover and _then_ find out-”

“Lance,” Shiro set a hand on his shoulder. Lance seemed to shrink under it, looking up at Shiro meekly. “Don’t say it like that. It was... _my_ idea after all.”

The chorus of Shiro’s name called by the other Paladins solidified something in Keith. All the walls he’d allowed to come down around these  _people_ had all been built up in half a second. They’d kept this a secret from him. _Deliberately._ Good-intentioned or not, they did not trust him enough to let him know that this monster from his past had lived. That he still roamed the stars, probably in search for his favorite prisoner.

Keith felt sick to his stomach. “How could you do this to me?!”

The whole team felt the weight of the words, but Keith directed them solely at Shiro. His older brother. The only person who had promised to never, _ever_ give up on him. And now, he’d hidden such a monumental secret from him. Had decided that he would let a threat to the universe - a threat to _Keith_ \- walk free without even telling the person it most concerned until _he_ deemed it time.

Keith had never been more _hurt._

Shiro said nothing, but the look in his eyes said it all. _I’m sorry,_ it seemed to say, but it felt empty. The apology held no weight. Hollow words from a hollow secret.

Keith felt tears prick at his eyes, but he held them back. Biting down hard on his lip, he pulled himself to his feet. Shiro watched him. Pidge made a move to stand up too, but both Hunk and Lance stopped her. Allura and Coran did nothing. They just looked so _remorseful._

Keith couldn’t stay here anymore. He felt panic tugging him every which way, a feeling of betrayal only amplified the longer everyone stared at him. He had to go. Had to escape.

That feeling of _run run run_ grew with every passing second.

The Castle was huge. If Keith ran far enough - ran _fast_ enough - nobody would be able to find him until he decided to show himself. He wouldn’t have to face their stares anymore. He wouldn’t have to look into the eyes of the older brother who _didn’t trust him enough._

Keith never thought such an enormous fallout between him and Shiro was possible. Their relationship was always steady. Sturdy and filled with mutual respect and love. Keith was starting to think the same of the others until _this._ Their relationships had been shattered. _Destroyed._ Keith couldn’t stay here with them any longer.

So, he turned on his heel, tears pricking at his eyes and rolling over the swell of his cheeks.

And he ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, I wish I could say I'm sorry, but I'm not. 
> 
> Poor Keith doesn't get a break. First he finds out that his torturer is still alive then he damages his most important relationship to him all in one go. This poor kid just needs a nap. This chapter was honestly so hard to write because I knew what was coming. Don't worry, the bond will be mended, but not at the moment. Keith needs time to himself and the team needs to make amends first. They'll come out of this stronger than ever. 
> 
> Also, sorry about the lack of update last week. Personal things got in the way and I wasn't able to update. I posted something about it on my [tumblr](https://chocolatechip-master.tumblr.com/) but honestly, I don't know how many of you really saw it, so I might as well tell you here. Just a lot of hard stuff, but updates should resume as normal! 
> 
> Thank you all for your support! I'll see you next Saturday! <3


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith tries to get rid of a reminder of the past. Shiro vows to fix what has been broken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't beta-read, so all mistakes are on me. 
> 
> Enjoy!

The Castle, while lived in, was largely unexplored by its seven inhabitants. Only half of it remained truly used, while the other half (mainly the left-hand side and the upper floors) remained cobweb-ridden and dusty.

Keith ran for that side of the castle.

He took the stairs down two at a time and sprinted across the main hall. He could hear no footsteps pursuing him, so he made straight for the unfamiliar side of the Castle. Somewhere they couldn’t reach him.

The doors to the left side of the Castle opened at his approach. It brought a cloud of dust with it that tickled Keith’s nose as he shouldered his way through before the doors had fully opened. He didn’t - _couldn’t_ \- allow himself a moment to breathe, despite his lungs begging for air. He had to keep going before they caught up to him; before Laynek kicked down the doors and roared down the hallway at him.

Keith turned a corner and scrambled up the stairs. His chest hurt, throat tight with the tears he’d desperately been holding back. He’d cried too much these past few days. He had to be stronger now. His legs burned, the adrenaline rush finally starting to wear off. He couldn’t run anymore. He had to hide.

Turning another corner, Keith ducked into the first room he saw. The door slid shut behind him and he stood there breathing heavily for a few minutes.

_Still not safe._

The thought startled Keith into action and he made his way toward one of some kind of box-shaped thing in the darkness of the room. He pressed his entire weight against it, _pushing_ until it fell with a mighty thud. Keith tried not to think about how much noise it had made until he braced his back against it and used all his strength to shove the dresser into place in front of the door.

 _There,_ he thought, still gasping for air. His shoulders were aching with the exertion. _That should keep Laynek out-_

_Wait._

Keith stopped himself.

His teammates had told him time and time again that Laynek wasn’t here. He wasn’t on the Castle and there was no way he’d followed them. But that was before he found out that they’d lied to him. Before they had let him believe Laynek had died and were going to spring the truth on him like the world’s worst surprise party.

Keith swallowed.

_No._

If there was one thing he could still believe his teammates about, it was that Laynek was not here. Not even in the unexplored areas of the Castle. He was elsewhere within the stars. He couldn’t reach Keith here.

The room was illuminated in a bright light. Keith squinted, turning around to the window he’d previously ignored. The Castle - he realized - had been caught in peaceful orbit with a nearby planet. It had just circled to the sun, bright and near imposing. It was larger than the Milky Way’s sun (probably because it was reaching the end of its lifespan, Keith reasoned) but if he closed his eyes and pretended, he was home again. Standing on the balcony of his cabin in the early morning sunlight. His father’s hand was on his shoulder. None of... _this_ had ever happened.

A sob forced its way from in between clenched teeth. Keith pressed the heel of his palms into his eyes, trying to stop the tears before they escaped. He’d cried so much. _Too_ much. It was time to stop.

As if that had ever stopped them before.

Keith sank down, pressing his back against the dresser. Another choked sob forced its way out of his mouth. His shoulders jerked with it.

There was no _reason_ for any of this, was there? The torture, Laynek’s anger, _all of it._ He’d suffered for the sake of information; for the sake of _breaking_ him. And now, his relationships with the others was in danger. His relationship with _Shiro_ was in danger. At worst, it had been fractured. An irreparable crack where the unrelenting trust between them had been.

And for _what?_

To keep a secret? To pretend like everything was okay?

Keith sobbed again.

They had  _ lied  _ to him. Let him believe his own narrative if that was what he preferred. 

Even out of their clutches, the Galra continued to take everything from him. Starting with his sanity and continuing with his friendships. 

The metal of his prosthetic suddenly seemed a lot colder against his skin. Keith lifted his hands from his eyes to stare at it. He hated it. He hated what it meant, what it represented. He hated how it had happened and he hated those  _ stupid fucking colors.  _

Without thinking, Keith reached over and gripped the wrist of his prosthetic arm. He bared his teeth -  _ rage  _ flooding him like nothing he’d ever felt before - and he  _ pulled.  _

The metal creaked but didn’t give. Keith adjusted his grip farther up the arm and pulled harder. It yanked against his stump of a shoulder, the metal keeping the arm in place almost  _ scraping  _ from where it had been molded against his flesh and nerves. 

Agony sparked up his entire shoulder, but Keith gritted his teeth and endured it. Pain was the only thing that was a constant in his life. The pain of losing his father, the pain of the mistreatment of his foster homes, the pain of losing Shiro not once, but  _ twice.  _ It was the only thing he could rely on.

Keith was now using all of his strength to get the arm off. The metal creaked but did not give way. It remained there,  _ attached  _ and unyielding. It hurt so  _ badly  _ but Keith didn’t dare stop. Not until the arm was nothing more than a sparking heap on the ground. 

Keith’s grip on the arm slipped and faltered. Gradually, the strength began to decrease, the white-hot agony dulled into an ache. And Keith sat there, head bowed over the prosthetic arm in his lap. Still attached. Inescapable. 

Tears splattered onto the cold metal surface. The fingers twitched as if they could feel them, and stilled. 

Keith had never felt weaker. His whole body trembled as he wept silently. 

He’d lost his friends, he’d lost Shiro, he’d lost the last semblance of safety he’d been able to get from being at the Castle. 

What more could he lose today? 

_ “Be thankful for the hardships you endured to get you here,”  _ his dad had said. But if the results of those hardships were nothing more than more pain, Keith would have rather died on that Galra cruiser. 

There had to be a light somewhere. A bright side to all of the agony he’d endured thus far. Some kind of  _ reason  _ besides just mere information that Keith had suffered so. 

He was just afraid there wasn’t a reason. 

Keith’s shoulder ached. He wasn’t sure if it was bleeding or not, but he wouldn’t be surprised if it were. He’d pulled very hard after all. 

The dying sun outside shone directly into his eyes. Keith tried to blink it and the remaining tears out of his eyes. He lifted his head, the room fully illuminated at last. 

The floors - while in a dire need of a polish - weren’t as dusty as Keith had been anticipating. There was a bed in the far corner, not unlike the ones in the Paladin’s own dorms. And, discarded and broken on the ground, was a picture frame. Keith reached out to take it. His breath hitched. 

The photo was clearly old. The white paper had yellowed with age and curled at the edges. But that wasn’t what caught Keith’s attention. It was the three people in the photo.

He suddenly realized why no one went to this side of the Castle. 

Because that was unmistakably Alfor, Allura, and Melenor in the photo.

Keith had stumbled his way into Alfor’s room when he was a Paladin. 

The thought that he’d made his way into his predecessor’s room was probably supposed to fill Keith with strength. That he’d managed to fill Alfor’s enormous shoes in Voltron and fight against tyranny to the best of his ability. But honestly? 

It just filled Keith with  _ despair.  _

Everything was so wrong. Keith was supposed to be strong, with a will as sturdy as iron. He wasn’t supposed to break, to feel so weak. He had a legacy to uphold, a universe to save. 

And yet, Keith had never felt more  _ wrong.  _

Shiro could taste the tension Keith had left in his wake on his tongue. 

Thick and tangy, it burned Shiro’s mouth and made him feel even guiltier than he already was. He had Keith’s best intentions at heart.  _ He  _ knew that. The  _ team  _ knew that. But honestly, he was starting to see how wrong of a choice it was. Keith, of anyone, had a right to know that Laynek had lived. Good intentions or not. 

Lance released a shaky sigh. His eyes were wet. “ _ Lo siento,”  _ he murmured. “I am  _ so _ sorry.” 

“Lance…” Hunk said. 

“This is my fault,” Lance said. “We weren’t supposed to tell him yet and I blew it.” 

Allura pursed her lips and looked over to the door that remained open long after Keith left. “Somehow, I do not think his reaction would be all that different,” she murmured. 

“It was a slip of the tongue,” Pidge set her hand on Lance’s knee. “Could have happened to any of us. Let’s just be grateful that Keith found out like... _ this  _ and not when we find him again.” 

Shiro shivered. He hated to think of the reaction Keith would have to finding out Laynek was alive inches from said Galran’s face. 

“We need to talk to him,” Shiro said. “Explain things. And...apologize, most of all.” 

Everyone nodded in agreement. Hunk leaned forward to pull Lance into a small one-armed hug. Lance’s lips quirked up into a small but genuine smile. 

“Where would he even be?” Hunk asked, knitting his eyebrows. “The Castle’s  _ huge.  _ And for all we know, he could have taken Red and flown off by now.” 

“I don’t think Keith would have run off like that,” Shiro shook his head. “Out there means the possibility of running into Laynek. With how scared he probably is right now, I don’t think he wants to take that risk. He probably ran off somewhere in the Castle.” 

“It’s  _ huge  _ though,” Lance said. “And we left a lot of it unexplored.” 

“We split up then,” Allura said. “And search the parts of the Castle we have neglected until now.” 

“If you find Keith…” Shiro paused and trailed off. 

“I say you don’t tell anyone,” Pidge said. Piccione hovered over her shoulder. Shiro mentally remarked that if trash floofs could get offended, this one looked very miffed that Keith had left it behind. 

“No, no, no, nope,” Lance disagreed. “We saw how well keeping things from each other went  _ last  _ time.” 

“But that’ll give us all a chance to talk to Keith,” Pidge countered. “No interruptions. We can all talk to him, get him to calm down. Maybe even get him to accept that Laynek’s still out there, I dunno. I just...I know I need to talk to him alone.” 

“As do I,” Allura said. “If we all are to find him, we can give each other privacy if need be.” 

Shiro paused. He knew that of anyone in the room, he had to talk to Keith the most. Clear the air between them and do his best to repair what had been broken. He just hoped he’d be able to do it. 

“Can we bring peace offerings to him?” Hunk asked. 

“Peace offerings?” Coran frowned. 

“It’s been long enough that Keith should be able to stomach solids,” Hunk said. He looked a bit bashful, turning his head away to find the wall very interesting. “I...want to bring him the cupcakes Shiro and I made. Maybe that’ll help.” 

Shiro’s lips twitched into a smile for a split-second. “Good idea, Hunk.” 

“I’ll bring enough for everyone if we all find him,” Hunk said. “Maybe then he’ll listen to us and we can apologize and...bond again over cupcakes.” 

Allura, who looked excited at the prospect of more cupcakes, nodded. “That sounds like a splendid idea, Hunk.” 

Hunk smiled. “At home, food always had a way of...bringing people together. It’s the reason why my mom opened a restaurant. She likes to say that she’s fixed a lot of people’s relationships over a good meal. I’m just hoping I can do the same for us. For Keith.”

“I know you can, Hunk,” Shiro set his hand on the other boy’s shoulder. “We’ll fix this. We have to.” 

Coran nodded in agreement, setting his hand on Allura’s shoulder. “We all made a promise to see Keith’s recovery through to the end. We were going to put him back together, no matter how long it took and how hard it would be. I’m assuming none of us are backing out on that promise now?” 

“Absolutely not,” Pidge said firmly. She rubbed Piccione’s back with her finger. “We’re going to help him. Right guys?” Her answer was a chorus of nods from everyone. Shiro curled his hands into fists on his lap. 

He’d fix this. He’d fix everything that had gone wrong between him and Keith. He’d almost lost his little brother once before. He wasn’t going to let it happen again. There was a new gap in their relationship now, but Shiro wasn’t going to let that happen. He’d rebuild the trust Keith had placed in him, brick by brick if he had to. 

He’d made a promise to never give up on Keith, after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No resolution, but I'm finally addressing something I've been wanting to for a while: the reasoning behind the torture. Previously I'd stated that the torture wasn't 'just about the information anymore' and they were now focusing entirely on using him as a test subject, to break him and then take the information. 
> 
> Typically, Keith thinks that's a shitty reason and hasn't accepted that sometimes there is no solid reason for one person to hurt another. It also gave me the chance to finally put in Keith trying to rip his prosthetic arm off. That's another angsty thing I've been planning for a long time. 
> 
> Next chapter the Paladins try to find Keith and talk to him, all with their own individual ways of apologizing. 
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! It was super fun to write, and I've been kind of waiting for the reaction to this specific arc for a pretty long time now. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading! I'll see you guys next Saturday! <3


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Paladins fix what has been broken. All but one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't beta-read, so all mistakes are on me. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Pidge had a secret weapon to help find Keith. Though, admittedly it wasn’t exactly accurate, Piccione still could sense out genuine distress and if Pidge wandered around in the unexplored Castle for long enough she was sure to find something. 

Piccione’s lights trilled softly as she walked. She’d already thought to look through footprints in the dust of the other side of the Castle, but to her luck, the dust wasn’t thick enough. Pidge chalked it up to some weird space phenomenon. Or, at the very least, Coran going to this side to clean and reminisce, because it was very unlikely that he or Allura did not know that this part of the Castle existed. 

Honestly, Pidge didn’t exactly have a solid  _ plan  _ to help find Keith. It was more of wander, let Piccione sense Keith’s distress (it was almost a given that it would be higher than her’s) and smash its little face into whatever door he was hiding behind. 

At the very least, wandering aimlessly let Pidge think. She wasn’t very good with words, so she’d have to rehearse all the things she wanted to say to Keith when she found him. A dozen ‘I’m sorry’s felt appropriate, given the situation. Layenk’s survival had cracked something in Keith, something that Shiro had predicted but they’d inevitably wandered into anyways. 

Pidge shuddered to think of what would have happened if he found out Laynek was alive when he was face-to-face with him. In a way, this was better. 

“Note to self,” Pidge muttered. “Don’t tell Keith that.” 

Likely, the thought this was the worst possible way he could have found out. 

It lost him Shiro, after all.

Pidge winced. 

She wasn’t an idiot. She saw Keith’s eyes fix on Shiro, that broken demand, ( _ “How could you do this to me?!”)  _ that was directed at him more than anyone else. Keith had said many times before while Shiro had been gone that their leader had been the one person to never give up on him. Keith placed so much  _ trust  _ in Shiro. And, in a way, he’d betrayed that trust by keeping such a weighty secret. Pidge had some kind of duty to help repair that trust, didn’t she? Hopefully soften the blow a bit. Help Keith realize that they’d only had his best interests at heart. 

“Shit,” she said under her breath. Piccione brushed against her ear and trilled. 

Pidge would have no problem reiterating time and time again that emotions were not her forte. She barely understood her own half the time, much less someone else’s. She did computers, not people. Machines were predictable. They were ones and zeros rather than flesh and blood. They had predictable patterns, could not get offended, and made  _ sense.  _ People were too volatile, too complicated. Pidge didn’t understand them at all. Hell, she hardly knew how to  _ talk  _ to people, much less give them life-changing advice amid one of the worst periods of their entire life. 

Keith had been  _ tortured  _ for God’s sake. There was no reversing that kind of damage. No ‘control z’ command or ‘delete’ option. There was no starting over. What had happened had happened. It made Pidge’s skin crawl. They had cut off Keith’s arm. Mangled his other beyond recognition. Squashed every ounce of hope under an iron-clad heel. Pidge didn’t know how to fix that. 

She turned another mindless corridor. Piccione did not react, but that was likely because of her own out-of-hand emotions. She had to dial back a bit. Reign in some of her fear and apprehension. She could do this. Keith was just as inept at talking to people, if not more. He’d understand her words. 

Or, he could totally and completely misinterpret them. 

That thought did not bode well in Pidge’s stomach. She stopped walking. 

“Okay,” she said, trying to get her thoughts in order. She pursed her lips, pressing her fingers to her temples. “First things first.  _ Apologize.  _ Apologize, explain, and uh…” she frowned. She couldn’t very well wing it. That was like giving herself a one-way ticket to ‘Misinterpreting Well-Meaning Words’ Town. Not gonna happen. “Apologize again,” she decided. Maybe endless apologies would really drive home how bad she felt about this situation. Better more apologies than none at all, right?

Pidge laughed dryly. For all her knowledge of machinery, she still had no clue what she was doing when it came to her teammates. 

But for now, ‘apologize’ sounded like a solid plan. 

Keith had nestled himself in the corner of the window. The last of his tears made their way slowly down his cheeks. His shoulder ached something fierce. He tried to ignore it because every time he thought about it, he was met with the white-hot shame of what he had tried to do. 

He had no bearing on how much time had passed. It was enough - he knew - for the lights outside to dim and the Castle to be put into night-mode. He wondered if his team had even bothered to come looking for him. If they’d found his desperate trail into this side of the Castle and were now combing it for any sight of him. 

A part of Keith wanted them to find him. To open the door, shove aside the bookcase he still hadn’t moved and run to embrace him. He’d felt so  _ safe,  _ so  _ loved,  _ with them. But with them came the true gravity of his situation. Laynek was alive. He was scouring galaxies for Keith. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to slip away a second time. 

Keith shivered, pulling his hoodie around him a little tighter. It bunched in his fists, red fabric spilling over his knuckles. 

He hadn’t turned around to see King Alfor’s room since he had staggered to plop himself onto the sill of the enormous window. He felt like enough of an intruder to begin with. Sobbing in a dead man’s room - it was laughable. A dull thought that hadn’t burned at the back of Keith’s mind in awhile burned at the back of his mind.

Maybe he really  _ wasn’t  _ fit to be a Paladin of Voltron. He was a half-breed - one of the race they were trying so hard to escape the tyranny of. He’d gotten himself captured. He’d lost his arm (the same arm he represented in Voltron. The irony of it burnt Keith’s mouth) and had ghastly scars marring the other. Someone that weak did not deserve the mantle of ‘Paladin’. 

Red vehemently disagreed. She roared down their link, angry and indignant, but Keith tuned her own. But she (much like himself before all this, he supposed) was stubborn. She couldn’t speak in words due to Keith mentally stifling their link, but he could still feel her growl. Still feel the waves of concern, love, and fear radiating through their bond. 

Keith tried to ignore it. 

It didn’t work very well. 

The sun illuminated the room in all of its dusty glory once again. The unpolished sill was dull under Keith’s bare feet. His sweatpants felt far too baggy for him, but he’d rather be comfortable and afraid rather than uncomfortable, strapped to a table and absolutely  _ terrified-  _

Keith sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. He chased the memory away before it could overwhelm him. Once again, he was overcome with the strange desire to see his team and for them to stay as far away from him as possible. Evidently, though, he did not have a choice. 

The door handle jiggled. Keith’s head whipped towards it as it was pushed open and promptly came in contact with the overturned bookcase. Someone swore. 

“God fucking--who decided  _ this  _ was a good idea? Stupid Altea-” 

Keith’s shoulders both drooped and drew themselves closer to his neck. It was Lance. 

The door smacked against the bookcase with a renewed sense of vigor. It scraped ominously against the dull floor, enough for Lance to pop his head in. He took in the room first, examining it. Keith held his breath. He was half-hoping Lance would somehow  _ miss  _ him and he’d leave. 

He’d forgotten how attuned to detail Lance’s eye was. It found Keith almost instantly. 

Lance’s expression shifted strangely. Surprise, first. Then concern followed by apprehension. It wasn’t a good look. He popped his hand awkwardly through the hole. 

“Hey, man,” he was trying to be casual. “Nice room hole you’ve hidden yourself in, huh?” 

A poor attempt at humor. Keith narrowed his eyes. He hoped Lance couldn’t see the puffiness in them. 

Lance cleared his throat awkwardly. He must have sensed he wasn’t welcome, but to his credit, he didn’t back off. “You mind if I join you in your hole-hiding?” 

Keith didn’t respond. He both did mind and didn’t. Lance took his silence as an answer. He beamed. 

“Great!” He said. “Um...let me just…” he grunted, smacking the door against the bookcase again. It moved an inch. “Move... _ this…”  _ Every word was punctuated by a press against the bookcase. It continued to scrape against the floor, scratching the cold floor. Keith couldn’t help but feel guilty. “There!” Lance threw the door open as best he could. He’d made a big enough gap that even Hunk could fit in without much issue. Keith wondered if he did that on purpose. 

Shutting the door behind him, Lance made a big show of checking out the room before he approached Keith. He stepped over the picture Keith had left face-down on the floor, frowned at the dust he swiped on his finger from the unused bed, and searched through the empty closet. As he explored, he made comments about the decor of the room, sarcastically remarking at just how  _ personalized  _ it was. Keith silently agreed. The late Alfor must not have been a man of personal effects. Much like Keith’s own, his room was very barren. 

Maybe that was on purpose. 

It wasn’t long until Lance made his way to Keith’s windowsill. He kept his distance, staring out at the star that sent waves of light cascading into the room. It was wisping at the edges, matter and elements floating off that curved gently like a wind was brushing it. Despite knowing that was impossible, Keith thought it looked very pretty. 

“Can I sit?” Lance asked. This time he waited for a response. Keith curled so his knees touched his chest and nodded shortly. Now that Lance was here, it would be rude to force him to stand for the incoming conversation. Keith could only hope his emotions would remain in check. 

Lance smiled and sat down across from Keith. He left plenty of room for Keith to bolt if he felt threatened but also was close enough for Keith to feel the weight of his presence. It was both comforting and uncomfortable. 

“So,” Lance began. Keith closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to his knees. Here it came. “I guess we owe you an apology, huh? Like, the  _ biggest  _ apology the universe’s ever seen.” Keith thought even that might be an understatement, but he held his tongue. Lance turned to him, looking a bit perturbed by Keith’s silence. He picked at a piece of lint at his pants. “I’m sorry,” he said, and it felt genuine.  _ Looked  _ genuine. Keith still wasn’t convinced.

“Why?” He said. His voice was hoarse. “How could you do this to me? You all  _ knew  _ he was alive. You guys  _ knew  _ he did things to me. How could you-” Keith sucked in a sharp breath. Too much. He’d let too much anger out. 

Lance didn’t look offended. If anything, he looked  _ guilty.  _ Keith figured that was appropriate. 

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “We should have told you. You  _ deserved  _ to know. But...we, Shiro, specifically, thought it was what was best.” 

Keith did not want to talk about Shiro. Not right now. “A lot of good it did.” 

“Tell me about it,” Lance said. “Ask anyone, we wanted to tell you. But we...we did need to wait. I think if we’d told you earlier, you would have...fallen apart. You were so like…” he paused. “ _ Fragile  _ when you came out of the pod. Everything scared you. Loud noises, any of us being too close...hell, you were even afraid of  _ yourself.”  _ Keith thought of his wounds and shuddered. “I just...I know you’re upset and all, but we really were thinking of you. We didn’t do this on purpose.” 

Keith deliberated his response. He’d been so blinded earlier, he realized. He’d been so terrified he’d thought they had intentionally kept this secret from him. He’d only found out due to Lance’s slip of the tongue, after all. 

“I understand,” he said, and it was true. He  _ did  _ understand. It didn’t help anything, though. 

Lance smiled wryly. Silence stretched between them again. 

Keith eyed Lance out of the corner of his eye. He was actively avoiding Keith’s gaze, his head tilted toward the window and out at the space. His chin was propped in his palm, elbow resting on his folded knee. His ever-present grin was gone. 

Keith swallowed. “How did you find me?” 

“Opened up every single door in the unused wing of the castle,” Lance said. He finally looked at Keith, blinking innocently like it was the most obvious thing in the entire world. Keith imagined Lance opening a door, popping his head in and then leaving. The image brought a tiny smile to his lips. It was gone as quick as it came. 

“Are the others looking?” He asked. 

“Mm-hm,” Lance hummed. “Hunk’s bringing a peace offering.” 

“Peace...offering?” 

“You’ll see.” 

A smile was pulling at Lance’s lips. He opened his mouth to keep talking when the door eased its way open. A green blur shot into the room. Keith recognized its trill. 

Piccione had planted its face into Keith’s cheek a moment later. 

Pidge poked her head in. She said nothing, but the look in her eyes said it all. She looked like she’d simultaneously won the lottery and had been told that a relative had died. Remorseful and excited all at the same time. She stepped into the room, pretending not to be surprised by Lance’s presence. 

“Hey,” she said. “Found you.” Piccione trilled in Keith’s ear. 

“I found him first,” Lance said. 

“I didn’t realize it was a competition,” Pidge shot back. Their easy banter faded into silence. It was a poor attempt to fill the silence. To try and bring normalcy back into the situation. Pidge eased her way into the room. She, too, stepped over Alfor’s overturned picture. She stopped beside Lance and sank down to the ground awkwardly. Her eyes were on Keith. “Piccione missed you,” she said. 

Piccione trilled as if in answer. Keith patted it awkwardly. 

“Did you use him to find me?” He asked. Pidge nodded. 

“Didn’t have anything else,” she said. 

“You could have some  _ class,”  _ Lance crowed. 

“Because opening and closing doors until you found me is the epitome of class,” Keith said under his breath, unable to help himself. Lance laughed. Keith felt some of the tension in his shoulders fade. 

This felt nice. It felt  _ right.  _

All of that faded when Pidge opened her mouth. 

“Keith,” she said. “I-” she paused. “I’m sorry. I’m like... _ really  _ sorry. Like, words cannot  _ describe  _ how sorry I am. I’m so sorry, I-” 

“Pidge,” Lance interrupted. “I think he gets it.” 

Pidge paused. “I’m sorry,” she said again, unable to help herself. “But...I promise we were only thinking of you.” 

It was the same thing Lance had told him. Keith’s gaze flickered to him and then back to Pidge. 

“Especially Shiro,” she said. “He was so scared you’d just break down and would never recover if you found out. He didn’t mean to like... _ break  _ anything between you.” 

“Then he shouldn’t have kept it a secret to begin with,” Keith said. The comment was biting. Scathing. It even surprised himself. “Does he not trust me? Do  _ you  _ guys not trust me?” 

Pidge faltered. Lance did too. They exchanged looks. Keith’s stomach bottomed out; he expected the worst when Lance opened his mouth to speak. 

“No,” Lance said. “It’s...like I said. You were so... _ different  _ when we got you back. Telling you would have hurt more.” 

“We trust you, Keith,” Pidge said. Her voice was firm. “More than anything, we trust you. Okay?” 

“Okay,” Keith said. He meant the words. Piccione’s lights blinked in the corner of his vision. Pidge reached out carefully to rest her hand on Keith’s ankle awkwardly. The touch was soothing. A bit grounding. Keith appreciated it. 

“And Shiro-” Pidge began. She didn’t get to finish. 

There was a gentle rap against the door before it opened. Hunk was next to appear, popping only his head and neck into the door. 

“Knock, knock,” he beamed. Somehow, it still felt real. “I heard voices from the hall. Can I come in?” 

Pidge and Lance both looked to Keith. 

He shrugged.  “Don’t see why not.” Hunk nodded and awkwardly shimmied into the room. Over his head, he held a covered platter that he was holding with the utmost care. It must have been the peace offering Lance had been talking about.

Hunk didn’t close the door behind him as he made his way over. He made his way to Keith, unafraid, and presented the platter. 

“What’s this?” Keith took it. It was heavier than he expected and he nearly dropped it out of sheer surprise. 

“Remember those cupcakes I offered to you a few days ago?” Hunk asked. Keith nodded. “We weren’t able to give you to them at the time because of your stomach. But now…” he smiled. Hope welled in Keith’s throat and he practically ripped the towel covering the platter. Organized in a little smiley face were strange-looking pink cupcakes with orange frosting, but they still smelled familiar. Like  _ home.  _

Keith almost choked on a wave of emotion. “Hunk…you…” 

“I told you I made them,” Hunk said. “Shiro helped. I would have never gotten the flavor right if it weren’t for him.” 

Keith reached out for a cupcake and peeled away the liner. Crumbs fell into his metal palm. 

“Ordinarily, we’re not allowed to eat sweets before dinner,” Hunk said jokingly. “But for you, I’ll make an exception.” 

Keith bit into the cupcake. 

And nearly cried. 

It was identical to the ones he made back on Earth. Standing in Shiro’s kitchen with an apron far too large for him and stirring a bowl as hard as he could because the butter just wouldn’t cooperate. Pulling them out of the oven and letting the sweet aroma flood the apartment. Watching Shiro’s face melt into bliss as he took a bite. The frosting that always,  _ always  _ got stuck on his upper lift. 

_ “I’m saving it for later,”  _ Shiro would joke when Keith pointed it out. 

Keith blinked away tears. He missed that. He missed being able to wake up in Shiro’s apartment and remember that he was safe. That the Foster System didn’t have him anymore and he was free to chase his dreams. Chase the  _ stars.  _

Keith missed Shiro. He missed that grounding presence. 

And yet, he’d still hidden so much. This whole situation was  _ his  _ fault. Shiro had deliberately kept what had happened a secret.

The tears became bittersweet. Keith took another bite. Pidge, Lance, and Hunk all leaned forward to take a cupcake of their own. Lance and Pidge both made exclamations of delight as they bit down. 

“Keith,” Hunk said. “Shiro cares about you.  _ We  _ care about you. I understand how scared you are and how  _ hurt  _ you must feel, but I promise we don’t think less of you because of what happened. All of us.” 

Keith choked on his next bite. He was so overwhelmed by emotion. Hunk’s words had struck home. He’d gone straight in for the depths of the issue. Allura would be proud; Hunk could be an incredible diplomat. 

“We love you, Keith,” Hunk said. He reached over to ruffle Keith’s hair affectionately. Carefully. “You’re our brother. Part of the family. We didn’t mean to hurt you. We thought it was what was best.” 

“I know,” Keith said with his mouth full. He swallowed and let the cupcake fall into his lap. His grip around it was lax. “I’m sorry too. I...I overreacted. I think.” 

“No,” Hunk said. “You were scared. It’s natural you’d run.” 

“We messed up,” Lance added. 

“But I don’t think there was a right way to tell you, either,” Pidge added. She picked at a few crumbs in her wrapper. “There are worse ways you could have found out.”

She immediately colored and looked like she’d said something she wasn’t supposed to. Lance and Hunk, however, nodded in agreement. 

“Exactly,” they said. Pidge looked surprised. 

“Are those the cupcakes you and Shiro made?” 

Allura had made her way into the room without anyone noticing. 

“Yup!” Hunk popped the ‘p’. “Care to try?” 

Allura nodded and delicately picked one up. She smiled at it and then at Keith. Her expression turned tender. 

“It is as they say,” she whispered. “We love you, Keith. You are as much a part of the family as we. And you  _ can  _ combat this.” 

“ _ How?”  _ Keith said miserably. His throat felt tight. 

“By relying on  _ us,”  _ Allura said. “You are not alone. Far from it. You are with  _ us.  _ Fighting Laynek will not be a single-man job. It will be one for us all.” 

“Besides,” Pidge added. “I’ve already mentally promised to shove my bayard down his throat and force him to eat some electricity.” 

Keith breathed a laugh through his nose. His cheeks were wet. He didn’t feel ashamed though. 

Coran popped out from behind Hunk and lifted his own cupcake into his hand. Biting down, he hummed in appreciation and patted Hunk on the back. 

“Excellent cooking, Number Two,” he said. He turned to Keith and smiled. “I must agree with the Princess. You’re far from alone, my boy. Rather, you have all of us. Including Shiro, who is very lost somewhere upstairs.” He chuckled. 

“Even...Shiro,” Keith murmured. His hands trembled around his half-eaten cupcake. 

“Of course!” Coran mistook his comment for a question. “Shiro is the most supportive of us all. He made a poor decision, but as did us all. It was a delicate situation, but I think finding out like this was the best possible reality.” 

“Slav would not agree,” said Lance. Pidge cringed. 

“Do not even  _ mention  _ him,” she said. “I’ve never seen Shiro so upset then when Slav’s around.” 

Hunk huffed out a laugh. “All his probabilities seriously get on Shiro’s nerves. I don’t blame him.” 

Keith looked down at his cupcake. It had so many good memories - so many wonderful moments Keith had shared with Shiro. His older brother. The person who had been with him through thick and thin, the brother that had promised to never give up on him. They had a bond that transcended galaxies. 

Keith lifted the cupcake. It tasted just like home. There was no denying that Shiro had helped making it. 

“Keith,” Allura had set her hand on his shoulder. Keith - for once - did not recoil at her touch. Piccione, however, was disturbed from its place on Keith’s shoulder and nestled itself into Keith’s hair. “We are behind you, but you need to talk to him.” 

Around him, everyone else nodded in agreement. Cupcake frosting was smeared across their noses. Keith ingrained the image in his mind. He never wanted it to go away. 

And yet, it was still missing someone. And integral part of their team. Someone missing from the party who, by all rights, deserved to be there as much as the rest of them. 

“Shiro’s upstairs,” Coran said. He placed his hand atop Allura’s. “Go, Keith. Go fix what’s been broken.” 

Keith nodded and placed his cupcake down on the platter. He handed it back to Hunk and stood on unsteady legs. He took a deep breath. 

The promise between him and Shiro was a two-way street. 

Shiro would never give up on Keith and as such, Keith would never give up on Shiro. 

_ Never.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Off to fix what's been broken! With that comes a major step in recovery. The acceptance of an enormous demon in Keith's life, perhaps? 
> 
> ;) 
> 
> This chapter came out a bit later than I expected it to. I had to do something today and that ran long, but I'm glad I at least managed to crank out a chapter. Keith's finally so close to recovery, I'm so proud of how far he's come. So much trauma and angst is finally reaching its conclusion! And, the fight against Laynek draws ever closer. That should be fun! 
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Leave a comment or something if you did, I'd love to hear your thoughts! 
> 
> See you next Saturday! <3


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't beta-read, so all mistakes are on me. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Before he left, Keith took a cupcake with him.

He thought of it like taking a leaf out of Hunk’s book; bringing a peace offering to Shiro sounded like a good way to break the ice. And how thick of ice it was.

Coran had said Shiro was lost, wandering somewhere upstairs, but that was a very broad area. Shiro could be anywhere and the severe lack of dust made tracking him through footprints near impossible.

Keith weighted the cupcake in his hand as he stared down the hallway. The stairs behind him practically begged him to retreat to have this conversation another day, but Keith rebelled. He knew that if he didn’t have this talk now, he’d never have it. They’d pretend like it didn’t happen. That wouldn’t do.

Keith took a deep breath and started searching.

It wasn’t surprising that Shiro had gotten lost. He had an awful sense of direction when it came to anything remotely unfamiliar. He had spent hours memorizing the route to Kerberos in the weeks leading up to the mission. A talented pilot he may be, Shiro was still hopeless when it came to the compass rose.

Keith smiled fondly at the memories. He’d do anything to go back to them.

He turned a random left and started ducking his head into random rooms in case Shiro had wandered into one of them. He felt like Lance.

He debated a few times calling out for Shiro but ultimately decided against it. He didn’t want to give the older boy a heart attack. Besides, Keith didn’t want Shiro to find him, he wanted it to be the other way around. It felt more meaningful that way.

Keith poked his head into another room. It looked like an old storage room, with empty shelves and a strange musty scent in the air. Keith didn’t linger too long in there; it made his nose itch.

Hallway after hallway passed and there was no sign of Shiro. Keith wondered just how lost he was. Keith even felt dizzy trying to remember where he had gone and where the shortest route back to the stairs was. He felt like he was exploring the Castle from the beginning all over again.

Keith turned another corner. This hallway was a dead-end, windowless and doorless. It was out of place and unremarkable if it weren’t for Shiro standing at the end.

Keith’s heart leaped into his throat. He should have thought of something to say. He’d had so many things he wanted to tell Shiro when he left Alfor’s room. Now, all of them seemed insignificant. None of them fit. Keith wanted to step back, hide around the corner and think, but his body betrayed him. He took a step forward and opened his mouth.

“Shiro.”

Shiro whipped around. He blinked slowly as if taking in Keith’s presence. Almost like he didn’t really believe Keith was there.

Then-

A relieved smile spread across his face. He practically sprinted back down the hallway to meet Keith. His mouth open, a thousand words on the cusp of his tongue-

Keith didn’t let him say any of them. Instead, he offered the cupcake with his hand wreathed in bandages and turned his head away. His cheeks were burning.

“Here,” he said.

The grin slid from Shiro’s face. “What’s this?” He asked. Keith tried not to think about how much the older boy’s voice comforted him.

“A peace offering,” he muttered.

Shiro’s expression dawned with comprehension. “You met Hunk then?”

“And everyone else,” Keith admitted.

Shiro laughed without humor. “Figures I’m the last one to get to talk to you.”

Keith chose not to respond to that. Instead, he watched as Shiro put the cupcake in the palm of his prosthetic and smiled at it. It brought as many good memories for Shiro as it did Keith. Remembering Shiro teasingly smearing batter over Keith’s face made Keith huff out a tiny laugh through his nose. It had made his hair sticky and Keith had been furious at the time. Now, though, he saw the memory as one of his most precious ones.

“The others tried to defend my decision, didn’t they?” Shiro said. He hadn’t looked away from the cupcake.

“Kind-of,” Keith replied. “But...I get why you tried to do it now. You were only thinking of me.”

“You still had a right to know,” said Shiro. He raised his head to meet Keith’s eyes. “Laynek did so many awful things to you.”

“He did,” Keith agreed. There was no changing that. Laynek had stabbed him, electrocuted him, torn his left arm to shreds. Those were mental wounds that were jagged and gross and would probably never heal. “But that’s okay. He...He’ll get what he’s got coming to him. And we’ll get to deliver it together.”

Shiro’s expression colored in surprise. His mouth gaped open. It was not the response he was expecting.

Keith smiled wryly. “Allura told me that.”

“That’s...wise of her,” Shiro said. He started peeling back the cupcake wrapper. His eyebrows knitted, frowning in thought. So many words clogged his throat and he had no idea how to articulate them. Deciding it was best to just go for it, Shiro opened his mouth. “Hey, Keith I-”

At the same time, Keith said, “Listen, I-”

Both of them stopped. A chuckle bubbled up from Shiro’s throat. “You first.”

“I uh...I wanted to apologize,” Keith shifted in the way he always did when he was apologizing. Even after all these years, he still had a hard time looking people in the eye. “For how I reacted. So...um… I’m sorry.”

Shiro reached over to place his flesh hand on Keith’s shoulder. He could feel bandages under his palm. He was so relieved to see Keith did not flinch away. “It’s okay, buddy. I’m sorry too.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Keith frowned. “You were just thinking of me and I totally overreacted-”

“Hey,” Shiro said gently. “None of that. Okay? You were scared and there’s nothing wrong with that. I’m sure the others told you something similar if you said that to them, too.”

“They did.”

“Then listen to them,” Shiro said. “They’re right a lot of the time, after all.”

Keith nodded. “Now you go.”

“Oh…” Shiro paused. “I was just gonna tell you how proud I am of you.”

“Proud?” Keith blinked. Then he scoffed. “Proud of what? All I’ve done is cry and make things worse. I can’t even look at my own arm like you.” His metal arm twitched as he spoke.

“No,” he said firmly. “Don’t compare yourself to me. You know better than anyone I still struggle with my time in captivity. And I don’t even remember most of it.”

“But you confronted your arm directly,” Keith chewed his lip. “You use it as a weapon. I can barely look at mine. I _hate_ mine.” He punctuated the word with venom. His expression darkened. It made Shiro’s stomach churn.

“You remember how you got yours,” he chided. “I don’t. Not going to lie, that made accepting its existence a lot easier. And besides, we have different coping mechanisms. You can’t compare mine to yours. That’s unfair to us both.”

“I…” Keith was holding the wrist of his prosthetic.

“It’s okay, Keith,” Shiro hummed. “I’m proud of you regardless. You’ve gotten so much better these past few days.”

“I don’t feel like it,” Keith muttered.

“You have,” Shiro insisted. “A few days ago, you wouldn’t have thought to fight back against Laynek. Now, you’re willing to fight against him with us. Lance may have said something he wasn’t supposed to, but this is just showing how much you’ve grown. I’m so proud of you, Keith.” Keith was speechless, but Shiro meant every word. Keith had come so far. He had worked so hard for his happy ending and he was so close to getting it.

Laynek was a setback. He would always be a setback. But one day, Shiro was sure, he could defeat that demon too. One day both he and Keith would be free of their demons from their time as captives. Then, everything would be okay. Shiro had faith.

“Shiro…” Keith wrapped his arms around himself. His eyes looked wet. “Thank you. That...means a lot to me.”

Shiro knew that, but also knew he didn’t have to tell Keith. He looked down at the half-unwrapped cupcake in his hand and split it apart. The frosting stuck to his fingers, but he didn’t really mind as he stuck half out to Keith.

“What’s this?” Keith asked.

“A peace offering,” Shiro said, parroting Keith. “We cool?”

Keith snorted. “Nobody says that anymore, Shiro.”

“Yeah, probably,” Shiro said but didn’t take back the words. Keith laughed low in his throat and shook his head. Shiro was always impossible, but Keith wouldn’t change that for the universe.

“We cool,” he echoed. Shiro beamed and Keith reached out for the cupcake. Immediately, he hissed in pain, gripping his shoulder. The prosthetic jerked to the left. The movement was clearly involuntary.

“Keith?” Shiro asked, concerned.

“I’m fine,” Keith lied through his teeth.

“No, you’re not,” Shiro put his cupcake down on the ground and reached out for Keith. “What’s wrong?”

“My arm,” Keith grimaced. There was no point in hiding it anymore. Even if the memory made shame color his cheeks, he’d absolutely done some sort of damage to his arm if it had started to hurt like this. Shiro wouldn’t judge him. “I tried to pull off my arm. Thought it didn’t do anything.”

Shiro was scandalized. “You did _what?_ Christ, Keith!”

“I know, I know,” Keith winced. Another jolt of electricity shot up his spine as his shoulder twinged. 

“We should have Pidge look at it,” Shiro said.

“No,” Keith paled.

“Hey, I know you don’t want to look at it or show it to anyone, but this might be serious,” Shiro pressed. “Please, Keith.”

Keith eyed him for a moment, weighing his options. He could deal with the pain alone like he always did. But this was his own arm he was talking about, and refusing to seek treatment for something as important as it would definitely impede further recovery. Besides, it was about time he stopped hiding from it.

“Fine,” he acquiesced grudgingly.

“Thank you,” Shiro said gratefully. He took a step around Keith and immediately stopped. “Uh...do you know where they are?”

Keith thought back to the dizzying mental map and nodded. “I-I think so.”

“Good,” Shiro grinned sheepishly over his shoulder. “Because I have no idea where we are.”

Despite the pain, Keith huffed out a laugh through his nose.

 

Pidge’s workshop was just as much of a rat’s nest as her bedroom was. This time, though, instead of clothes and trash replicas, the floor was littered with machine bits and Altean wrenches. Every inch of it was covered in _something_ which made the workshop quite a sight.

And a very effective distraction from the pain.

Pidge opened a panel in Keith’s arm and he hissed, the motion sending shockwaves up his shoulder. His hoodie and shirt were discarded somewhere to the left of him on the table Pidge had cleared off. Dried grease stained the surface.

“A lot of things got disconnected,” Pidge said. Her glasses flashed in the light as she looked up at him. “You must have pulled _really_ hard...damn.” The last part was more to herself than anything as she picked up a pair of tiny pliers and set to work.

“ _Dios,_ Mullet,” Lance said from across the room. He’d found a spinny chair to help ease his boredom and was having Hunk spin him. At the moment though, the two were taking a break and Hunk was attempting to get Lance to switch with him. “You okay?”

Keith blinked in surprise. He’d expected some kind of jab or a snide remark, not an expression of concern. It was both sweet and a stark contrast to the Lance that Keith was used to.

“Uh…” Keith winced as Pidge pulled on his arm gently to get a better look at the wires. “I will be. Just hurts for right now.”

“Just don’t go pulling your arm off again after this,” Pidge warned him. There was a click in the panel. “There. Connected a wire.” She sighed. “You’re lucky your arm is so similar to Shiro’s. Same design and everything. The only thing that’s different is that your’s can’t be used as a weapon.” She paused and blinked owlishly. “I think.” 

“That’s reassuring,” Keith muttered. His sarcasm was lost on her. 

The door hissed open a few feet away. Allura, Shiro, and Coran entered, holding lunch. Thankfully, it was just leftover soup and the Popping Sodas that Keith, Lance, and Hunk had found. Coran seemed to be obsessed with them. 

“How goes it?” Shiro asked. He was trying to find a place to sit the pot Allura had warmed to no avail. Everything was so cluttered. 

“It goes,” Pidge muttered, connecting another wire. Keith jolted. “Might take awhile. The wires are tiny and they have to go in the right spot.” 

“We can use my arm as a reference,” Shiro offered. Allura began to clear off a table of spare mechanical parts. 

“No thanks, I’ve already got a blueprint of your’s.” 

Shiro shook his head, choosing not to ask when and where she’d gotten said blueprint. Instead, he set the enormous pot down on the newly cleared table. Coran began to put down the bowls and spoons. 

“Eat up, everyone,” he encouraged. “We may be here for awhile, so eat your fill!” 

Lance leaped up from his spinny chair to be the first in line. To his dismay, Allura was already pouring stew into a bowl and she gave him nothing short of a smirk when he complained. 

The laughter that followed lit up the room. 

 

They were indeed there for a long time. 

Keith had no bearing on the time, but he guessed it had to have been around dinnertime by the time Pidge got to the last few wires he’d disconnected. She’d found a few stragglers in the panel near his wrist and was currently pressed with her nose to the metal, trying to get the last few stubborn wires to fit. 

The stew had long since grown cold. Lance had fallen asleep, draped dramatically over the chair. Hunk had been given tool duty, handing Pidge whatever she needed to fix Keith’s damaged arm. Allura and Coran had spent hours trying to teach Shiro how to play a complicated card game that was like Face Ten if the cards had been doubled in quantity and every turn was timed. Shiro hadn’t really caught on but was still somehow winning. The odds of it were greatly confusing to the two Alteans. 

Keith jolted again as Pidge fit in another wire. She let out a triumphant laugh, swore at the wire, and turned her sights on the final one. Keith hated to interrupt her as she used the pliers to delicately fix his arm, but he figured now was as good a time as any. 

“Hey, Pidge…?” He said carefully. She hummed to show she was listening but was clearly distracted. “Um...remember how you said Azul was originally blue?” 

“Yeah?” Pidge’s eyebrows furrowed. From frustration, concentration, or confusion, Keith really had no bearing until the wire fit in with a pop. Keith jumped once more as his arm finally sank back into a normal state. It felt fine, now. 

“Uh...do you mind showing me where it happened?” Keith asked. 

“Why?” Pidge asked. She closed the panel and sealed it. Leaning back, she stretched her arms over her head and her back popped. Allura and Coran looked positively frightened at the noise while Shiro looked over at them curiously. Lance continued snoring away in his chair. 

Keith looked down at his arm. At the purple accents decorating it. It was time to put an old nightmare to rest. If this arm was a part of him now, he might as well make it his. 

“I’m not afraid of the arm anymore,” Keith said. “So...I’m going to change the arm so it doesn’t belong to the Galra.” 

Pidge caught on quick. There was a twinkle in her eye. “Let’s go, then.” She leaped up from her chair and tugged Keith down from the table. Hunk woke Lance and together, they all left the lab curious and (in Lance’s case) grumpy. 

Personalizing the arm would be no easy task. Keith had thought about it to distract himself while Pidge worked on it. He had considered asking her and Hunk to make him a new one entirely, but he felt bad asking that of them. And, in a way, it didn’t feel right. The Galra were probably expecting him to get a new arm, to escape the reminder of the old one. 

When Keith confronted Laynek, Lotor, and Haggar again, he would not give them the satisfaction of knowing he couldn’t handle what they’d given him. 

Instead, he much preferred showing them that he’d accepted it and made the arm  _ his.  _

Pidge took a flight of stairs two at a time into a hallway that was bare save for the door at the end. It opened at her approach. Keith followed her in and the smell of paint assaulted every one of his senses. He coughed at the same time everyone else did. 

“I forgot how strong that scent was,” Pidge pressed her sleeve over her wrinkled nose. “Sorry. Uh...what color do you want?” She was looking up at the shelves above them. They reached up to the ceiling, with an enormous contraption sitting in the center of the room. It looked remarkably like a machine on Earth for painting cars. Honestly, Keith was not surprised that Lance and Pidge had fooled around in here. It was fascinating. 

Keith didn’t have to look around at the buckets of paint to know which color he wanted. 

“Red,” he said. Pidge motioned to Lance and the two of them darted off in the rows of paint. Keith wondered how many times they had been here to know where everything was. 

Within minutes they were back. Lance was carrying an enormous bucket of red paint while Pidge held a pail of what appeared to be paintbrushes, but with much smaller hairs at the end that were remarkably straight. 

“Here,” Lance put the paint down in front of Keith. “Red paint.” 

Allura leaned down to inspect the label. “Waterproof, un-peelable and...look! Hargmere vomit-proof too! A fine choice. This paint will certainly last for a long time.” 

“What’s your plan here, my boy?” Coran asked. “Paint the whole arm? Write your name as large as you can?” 

“No,” Keith said. He looked down at the purple accents. “I think...I just wanna change one thing.” 

It took the combined efforts of Hunk and Shiro to peel the lid off of the bucket. Keith sank down next to it and took a paintbrush from Pidge and sunk it into the paint. It was thicker than he was expecting, but honestly, he should have known it would be different if it was ‘Hargmere vomit-proof’. Whatever that meant. 

Keith looked down at the purple accent on his elbow, first. When he first saw the arm, it had disgusted him. The colors had only reminded him of his heritage. Of what he had suffered at the Galra’s hands. It was a way of Haggar whispering at the back of his mind that he was her’s and could not escape his destiny as a Galra. 

And what Keith was about to do was like flipping the biggest bird to all of that. 

Keith smeared the paint over the purple. 

He was careful not to overlap it with the metal as he worked. The others watched in silence as Keith repainted his arm to his liking. Coloring the purple with red made so many things different now. 

Keith was worthy of being a Paladin. He was worthy of being Voltron’s right hand, their sword. He was worthy of so much. Nothing could take that away from him. Not Haggar, not Lotor, not even Laynek. Keith burned as bright as the sun. He was so,  _ so  _ worthy. 

And he would not have known that without his family. 

He lifted his gaze and gesture with a brush dripping with red paint to the remaining ones in the pail. “You guys can help too, you know. Make sure you only paint the purple parts.” 

And they did. Pidge, Lance, Hunk, Allura, and Coran each took one of the knuckles. Shiro took the shoulder. 

Together, they erased the sins of the past. They painted the purple red, and with it, refused to bow down anymore. 

The past and future were theirs. 

No one could take that away from them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been planning this for so long, you guys have NO idea. It was so satisfying to finally write, too! The moment I came up with the design for Keith's arm, I wanted to have a moment where he personalized the arm and made it his. I'm so glad that time finally came! 
> 
> We're starting to get to the end of the recovery period, as the Paladins have Laynek to hunt down and deal with. But, he'd in cahoots with Haggar to get Keith back, remember? And under Lotor's orders, too. That can't end well >:) 
> 
> As always, thank you so so much for reading. This story wouldn't be what it is today if it weren't for each and every one of you readers and I cannot thank you all enough. 
> 
> I'll see you next Saturday! <3


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baby steps first. Then, they return to the real battle. If only it were that easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't beta-read, so all mistakes are on me. 
> 
> Enjoy!

The paint took hours to dry. Keith had watched it practically the whole time, careful not to smudge all the work that had gone into it. Coran and Allura had offered to blow-dry it, but Keith preferred this way. He had denied the offer, though he appreciated it, and Pidge practically demanded a Disney marathon.

There was a general consensus and they all threw together a bunch of blankets and settled in the lounge again.

He sat in between Lance’s legs as he and Pidge half-braided his hair, half-sang along to every song in _Mulan._ Hunk splayed himself across Shiro’s lap while Shiro watched the trio on the floor with a smile. Coran and Allura were mostly silent but spoke up occasionally to ask if events in the movie actually corresponded with beliefs on Earth.  

“Mister, I’ll make a man,” Lance said dramatically. Next to him, Pidge swatted his jacket pockets in search of a hair-tie. “Out of you!” He dragged out the word for far longer than it needed to but Keith found himself smiling anyways.

The paint on his arm was still wet. He saw Lance reach for his shoulder to poke at it and Keith whacked his hand.

“No smudging it,” he said. “The only reason I’m letting you two do this is so my hair doesn’t mess with it either.”

“The only reason?” Lance snorted. “You could have just put that mullet in a ponytail. Or save me the sight of looking at it every day and _cut it.”_

Keith scowled but didn’t retort. Things felt right, for once, and he didn’t want to lose that. He didn’t feel _free_ per-say, but at the very least, he wasn’t scared anymore. Painting his arm had lifted an impossible weight from off his shoulders. The memories were easier to bear, now.

He didn’t want to say things were normal again because he doubted they ever would be. Too many things had happened for them all to go back to the way things used to be. To the _people_ they used to be. At the very least, they were together. Keith had learned the irreplaceability of that.

“Hey, don’t do that,” Keith hadn’t even realized he was leaning back against Pidge until she pushed his head back up with her knuckles. “I’m still working on this braid.”

“Sorry,” he murmured. Pidge patted his leg to let him know it was okay and tied off the braid. She beamed at it. Lance leaned over to view her handwork and made a snort of approval.

“Not bad,” he said. “I dub you my braid apprentice!”

Pidge frowned at him. “Excuse me? You think you’re better than me?” Lance raised an eyebrow and showed her the braid he was working on with a light tug on the back of Keith’s head. Pidge frowned. “Okay, fair. How are you so good at that?”

Lance grinned a bit smugly. “Four sisters, two nieces. You learn it.”

Pidge shook her head. “I always forget how big your family is.”

“Yeah,” Lance shrugged. He looked tenderly down his braid. “But they’re not the only family I’ve got now.”

There was silence after that comment, but not an uncomfortable one. Everyone exchanged affectionate looks. Lance was right. They were as much family to each other as the ones back on Earth were. And, in Keith’s case, they were the only family he’d ever known. He hoped that if he found his mother way out here then she could become a part of it too.

It didn’t take long for Keith to doze off, warm and loved. His family watched over him, a small smile pulling at their lips. Lance let go of the hair he was braiding and combed it out with his fingers. He glanced up at Allura.

“You were right,” he said.

“Pardon?” Allura raised an eyebrow.

“Keith isn’t gone,” Lance said. He adjusted Keith so he’d be more comfortable leaning against him and so the still-drying paint wouldn’t get smudged. “He just needed support.”

It took Allura a moment, but a smile gradually spread across her face as she understood. She’d said it to Lance just a few days ago, but it felt like a lifetime. Keith had made tremendous progress, but that was just who he was. He was a doer, not a don’ter. He worked to do what he believed was right.

“I think Voltron needs to come out of hiding now,” Allura said. Heads swiveled or (in Hunk’s case) lifted to look at her.

“What?” Pidge said.

“I don’t believe Keith is ready to face his duties as Paladin yet,” Allura said. “But it is time we stop shoveling work upon Matt and the rest of the Rebels. We should, at the very least, return to miscellaneous missions that can be handled by one or two of us.”

Shiro slid off the couch to sit next to Lance. Hunk, missing his pillow, let his head fall against the cushions instead. He stared up at the ceiling with his lips pursed.

“We’ll also have to wait to find Laynek,” said Hunk. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I don’t feel right going after him without Keith. Or until he’s ready.”

“Yeah,” Pidge echoed. “Something tells me Keith is going to want a piece of him too when he’s all recovered and stuff.”

“Let’s run it by Keith first,” Shiro hummed. He brushed Keith’s bangs out of his eyes. He looked so peaceful, but he knew from experience that could change in a fraction of a second. “No more making decisions without the full consent of the team first.”

“Agreed,” Hunk lifted his whole arm so everyone could see his thumbs up.

“Let’s all get some rest, then,” Coran stood up to pause the movie. “We are returning to our regular activities, then training will also commence as usual, starting the day after tomorrow.”

There was a chorus of groans.

“Six AM training _again?”_ Lance bemoaned. He draped an arm dramatically over his face so it covered his eyes. “I _hated_ those. Still do!”

“That is a shame,” Coran said. “You all are still Paladins of Voltron and therefore have an integral duty to the universe! You must all be at tip-top shape for our coming missions, even if they are nothing more than errands!”

“But-” Hunk, Pidge, and Lance all tried to protest, but Coran ignored them by practically slapping the spacebar to pause the movie.

“Bedtime!” He announced. “We shall discuss this with Keith in the morning at the bridge.”

Lance, Hunk, and Pidge all moaned and grumbled as they got to their feet. Lance had to do some awkward acrobatics to get up without waking Keith but did so successfully. He jogged over to meet Hunk and Pidge who were waiting by the door. Coran turned to the remaining Paladin who had yet to move. Keith was leaning on his shoulder.

“Shiro, bedtime applies to you too, leader or not,” Coran said busily.

“I know, I know,” Shiro laughed lightly. “I just...I’m gonna take Keith back to his room first.”

Coran hummed. “All right. Don’t want him sleeping on the floor, do we?” His words were probably supposed to be joking, but Shiro didn’t want to think about how many times Keith had drifted off (or passed out) on the cold ground. He nodded with a smile.

“Yeah,” he agreed softly. He stood up, carefully gathering Keith in his arms so the metal arm (it was dry by this point, Shiro was just being cautious) flopped awkwardly, palm up and arm fully extended, and made his way to the door.

The walk to Keith’s room was quiet and uneventful. But, as Shiro passed Lance’s door on the way to Keith’s, he was sure he heard Hunk and Pidge’s voices inside. They’d probably opted for a sleepover in Lance’s room. That wasn’t uncommon but had become abnormal since Keith’s capture.

Shiro was debating the pros and cons of sleeping over in Keith’s room when he stepped inside. It was just as bare and clean as it had been the last time he’d been in here, but the stale smell (and the clothes) were all but gone. This was no longer the room of the Paladin that had been captured, but one that was actively being lived in. Shiro liked this feel much better.

He gently lay Keith down on the bedspread, unfolding his fluffy red blanket and pulling it up to Keith’s neck. He turned to leave, when Keith’s flesh hand flew out. It gripped Shiro’s prosthetic tightly and Shiro noted that the bandages covering the scars looked a bit loose.

“Keith?” He asked softly, wondering if he’d accidentally woken him.

“Stay,” Keith’s words were slurred with sleep, but the tired amethyst eyes that stared at him from underneath the messy bed of braided hair were unmistakable. “Please.”

Shiro’s lips turned to a gentle smile. “Okay. I’m gonna go get something from my room and then I’ll be right back.”

Keith muttered something that Shiro didn’t catch, but he figured it was an assent. He turned and left the room, on the hunt for his own blankets. He didn’t think there were any spare mattresses and he was quite sure he couldn’t pull the one off his own bed, so he’d have to make do with the floor. That was fine. Shiro didn’t mind waking up to a few cricks in his neck.

He grabbed as many blankets from his room as he could carry and returned to Keith’s room. Keith watched him as he came in, his eyes half-lidded. He seemed on the verge of sleep but didn’t do so until Shiro had made himself a makeshift bed on the floor. He lay on it (it was far from ideal, but it would do) and pulled a heavy blanket over him.

“You need anything?” He asked Keith. Keith shook his head.

“Thanks,” he murmured and shut his eyes. He was asleep a second later. Shiro rolled over onto his stomach, tucking his arms underneath him and shut his eyes. He let the peaceful feeling envelop him in warmth and drifted off.

He awoke an hour later to thrashing.

Keith, in his sleep, had started crying out in pain. Ice flooded Shiro and he flung his blanket off of him and threw himself at Keith’s bedside.

“Keith!” Shiro called out, but he didn’t appear to hear. Too lost in his nightmare, Keith kicked the wall _hard._ It did little to help him calm down. “Hey. _Hey!”_ Instead of answering, Keith threw his head back into his pillow and flat-out _screamed._

Shiro’s heart jumped into his throat. He shook Keith gently at first and then harder as he continued to thrash. He jerked away from Shiro’s touch as a phantom pain wracked his whole body and then proceeded to smash his forehead into the wall. Shiro wrapped his arms around Keith, pulling him into him so he couldn’t hurt himself anymore.

“Keith, hey, it’s me,” Shiro said. He hoped his voice could reach Keith, wherever the nightmare had taken him. “It’s Shiro. You’re okay, buddy. You’re okay.”

Keith whimpered. The door opened and half-asleep Lance stumbled in. He was followed by Pidge and Hunk, all of which were in color-coded pajamas.

“What happened?” Hunk demanded, sounding much more awake then he appeared. “What’s wrong with him?!”

“He’s having a nightmare!” Shiro said. He sounded like he was near hysterics. “He’s not waking up. Keith, _Keith_ it’s okay! It’s just us!”

The others gathered by Keith’s bedside, calling out similar chants, trying to get him to open his eyes. No matter what, it seemed, Keith refused to open his eyes.

Abruptly, Hunk stood up and left the room. Shiro didn’t have the time to feel betrayed by his leave. Every ounce of his attention was focused on Keith, who flailed madly in his arms.

“God, what do we do?” Pidge had her hand on Keith’s knee and she drew it back after he kicked upward. “What do we do?!”

“I don’t know-” Shiro choked on nothing. Hunk reappeared in the doorway, holding a bowl. Shiro had time to wonder what was inside before he was charging forward.

“Move!” He ordered and Shiro obeyed. Hunk tipped the bowl over and Shiro watched as a cascade of ice water poured onto Keith. He shot up almost instantly, coughing and spluttering. His eyes were wide, pupils dilated into pinpricks. He moved his arms to wrap them around himself into a pseudo-hug.

A sob wrenched itself from his throat. Another one was quick to follow.

Shiro lunged forward, capturing Keith into a hug. His shirt was wet and he was shivering madly, but he did lean his head against Shiro’s chest.

“Shh…” Shiro soothed. Pidge pressed against his back, peeking over his shoulder to look down at Keith. “Shh, it’s okay. I’m here. _We’re_ here.”

Keith clung onto Shiro, gasping. “He _stabbed_ me Shiro, he stabbed _Dad-”_

Shiro didn’t have to guess to know who Keith was talking about. “It’s okay Keith. It’s okay.”

He felt his own throat tighten with emotion. He’d been so terrified at that moment. Keith had nightmares before this but never before had then been they this bad. Never before had he been unable to wake up. He held Keith a bit tighter.

“We’re here, Keith,” he said softly. Keith’s trembles stilled a little under his hands. “What do you need from us?”

“Just...be _here,”_ Keith rasped. He shut his eyes tightly. “ _Be here.”_

Pidge took that as her invitation to wrap her arms tightly around Keith’s waist, burying her face into his middle. Her shoulders shook. She was crying.

Lance climbed awkwardly around Pidge and Keith’s legs to hug Keith’s other side. Hunk carded his fingers through Keith’s hair and wrapped an arm around him. Keith slowly stilled, feeling safe in the arms of his family. He let his eyes drift shut again. The image of the blood on his hands, the knife in his gut, haunted the back of his eyelids. The blood cascading from his father’s mouth, while his faceless mother watched, unable to help in the background made him feel sick.

So, he leaned forward and retched into the empty bowl. Everyone pulled away to give him space as he gripped the bowl, trying to erase the stains of the nightmare. It didn’t work very well.

“I’m sorry,” he said. His hands were shaking. “I didn’t mean to-”

“No apologizing,” Lance said firmly. “It’s okay.”

“We don’t blame you for anything,” Pidge reassured him.

“And we’ll be here for as long as you need us,” Hunk said. “We promise. Okay?”

“Okay,” Keith echoed. His pressed his forehead into Shiro’s shoulder. His mouth tasted like acid.

“Recovery is hard,” Shiro said. “I know that better than anyone. But you’ve come so far, Keith. You’re going to be okay.”

The words sank into Keith and relaxed him. He mulled them over, letting them repeat in his head over and over.

_You’re going to be okay._

Lance had said he was skittish and jumpy when he first started. Now, he embraced his family and constantly felt warm and safe with them. Laynek no longer terrified him, he was just a nightmare of a past that was better left forgotten. He wanted, just like everyone else did, to punch his teeth in.

 _That_ was progress. He _was_ getting better.

Keith let a miniscule smile lift the corners of his lips. “I know.”

He felt the others stiffen in surprise and then relax. Shiro and Hunk exchanged looks.

Keith let the last vestiges of the nightmare leave his mind. He drifted away, with progress in his mind and knowing that he was going to be okay.

They all were.

 

The following morning, Keith awoke with the others in a tangled mess of arms and legs on the floor. Shiro’s makeshift bed was in disarray around them, blankets half-thrown over them, half-flung to the other side of the room.  

The others were already awake, murmuring quietly to each other. Hunk was still running his hand through Keith’s hair. He hummed softly and lifted his head.

“Morning,” Lance laughed. He was sitting up on Keith’s bed. His hair was sticking up everywhere.

Keith muttered a sleep-ridden response. He yawned.

“You okay?” Shiro asked. He was lying by Keith on his back, head turned to look at him.

“Mhm,” Keith hummed and he meant it. He felt fine. _Better_ than fine. He was going to be okay, after all.

“Glad to hear it,” Shiro said. “We were really worried.”

“Don’t you ever scare us like that again!” Pidge ordered, her tone angry, but her eyes were soft. Keith nodded.

“I won’t,” he promised. He pushed himself into a sitting position. There was a rustle of fabric. Shiro’s eyes widened and he sat up.

Keith realized that his flesh arm felt a lot _colder_ than usual.

He looked down to see the bandages had come loose. They pooled on the ground in a tiny lump, the remaining ones sticking out of Keith’s sleeve. Unwittingly, Keith’s gaze strayed to the scars on his arm. For a moment, he thought about the claws that had torn it apart to begin with, but he banished the memory.

He saw the scars and his stomach jolted but did not rebel. They were the same as he remembered: jagged and drawn in horrifying spirals, but they no longer terrified him. They were a part of him. He didn’t fear them. Not anymore.

Hunk fumbled for the bandage pile. “We can wrap them up if you want-”

“No,” Keith’s voice was stronger than he’d thought it would be. Hunk blinked in surprise. “No, I’m okay.” He took the end of the bandages sticking out from his sleeve and tugged. He felt the bandages wrapped around his shoulder give way. They pooled onto the floor with the rest. “I’m not afraid of them anymore.”

Shiro’s face glowed with pride. Hunk looked aghast, but that too melted into a smile. Lance and Pidge were much the same way.

Keith straightened up. His arm felt freer than it had ever been. The scars were gross, they were lumpy, but they were _his._

He looked Shiro in the eye when he spoke. “What are we doing today?” Shiro beamed.

“Coran and Allura want us all to meet on the bridge this morning,” he said. “It’s something important we have to discuss.”

“Something important?” Keith narrowed his eyebrows. He felt like he was being kept out of the loop again, but this time he knew he’d find out in due time. “Guess we shouldn’t keep them waiting.”

 

Keith hadn’t been to the bridge since he’d been captured. It was a surreal experience if he was being entirely honest. He’d sat in those chairs, manning the Castle’s defense systems and watching their route for _hours._

Around him stood his teammates, all facing Coran and Allura. Allura had her hands clasped in front of her, the center of attention, but she had her eyes on Keith. He shuffled awkwardly, wondering if she was looking at the scars he’d decided to unveil. Coran certainly had, but he’d at least grinned and nodded to himself and hadn’t said anything. Maybe Allura was just politely ignoring them.

“What’s all this about?” He asked. He held his arm with his prosthetic hand. The metal chilled the skin there.

“We’ve reached a general consensus,” Allura said. “We believe it is time for Voltron to return to the fight.”

Keith swallowed. He rocked back and forth on his heels as he turned the words over in his head.

“You don’t have to return to the fight right away,” Shiro reassured him. “We’ll start small. Little errands and stuff.”

Keith thought about that, too. It sounded fine to him. So long as they weren’t going around forming Voltron and saving prisoners again, he was sure he would be fine. He nodded once. He could do this.

“Okay.”

Allura’s kaleidoscope eyes brightened. “Stellar! I think I speak for us all when I say how proud we are of your recovery, Keith.”

Shiro had said something similar to him yesterday, but the bashful look still hit Keith’s face full-force, as did the nods from around him. He loved his family so very much.

“Thanks,” he said. And he meant it.

“Then, I suppose, it is time to say goodbye to the Sarvian System, is it not?” Allura asked. “Coran, set us a course for the next galaxy over. It is high time Voltron has made its reappearance.”

Coran saluted and hurried to the controls. The podiums rose on either side of Allura and she closed her eyes. Slowly, the Castle began to roar into action. It drifted out of the planet’s gravity, away from the dying star, and out into space.

Keith felt his heart swell with pride. They’d come in here with a broken child, that was no more Keith than it was the Red Paladin of Voltron. He’d left with scars that would never truly fade, but he was stronger now. He wasn’t ready for many things, but the slow, sure steps he knew the team would take with him made everything okay.

_You’re going to be okay._

_I know,_ Keith thought. He glanced at Shiro, who met his gaze with a smile. _I’ll be better than fine. I’ll be_ stronger. _I promise._

The Castle roared out of the system. The ground didn’t so much as tremble as they moved. Allura lifted her hands off of the podium as they began following Coran’s course.

“Turn on our communications,” Allura ordered. “Let us head for the nearest planet that needs aid.”

“Yes, Princess,” Coran did so and several alarms popped up on the map that appeared in front of him. He hummed and scrolled idly through the list.

Then, he froze.

“What?” He murmured.

Keith felt ice flood his veins. He wasn’t sure why. “What’s wrong?”

“There is a signal from Zaaf,” said Coran.

Pidge went rigid. “The planet where the rebels are?”

“Yes.”

“Play it!” Lance took a step forward and then back. He had gone pale as a sheet.

Coran tapped on the distress signal. A burst of static from the speakers made everyone clap their hands to their ears.

“What the-” Pidge had started to say when the person started to speak.

“Voltron...know you’re out of commission but...need help!”

The voice was ridden with stress and fear. It was the voice of someone who was weary from battle. Worst of all, it was horribly familiar.

Pidge’s eyes widened. “...Matt?”

The static began to clear out somewhat out of Matt’s voice. The remaining noise, Keith realized with a horrible jolt in his stomach, wasn’t static. It was explosions.

“I know you guys are busy but God-” Matt’s voice shook. “ _Please_ come help us. We’re under attack by the Galra. They’re after Keith.”

Keith’s spine went rigid.

_Oh._

_Oh no, no, no._

Not now. _Please_ not now.

“They’ve killed so many of us already,” Matt said. “The witch is here. So is...so is Laynek. They’re slaughtering us. We can’t get off the planet. I know you guys won’t get this message until you’ve left the Sarvian System, but if you get it in time…” Keith imagined Matt squeezing his eyes shut. “ _Help us.”_

Another explosion made the transmission’s audio break apart. Matt yelped, but it was jumpy and _wrong._ He screamed once; a name that Keith thought he could hear a million lightyears away. 

“ _Mira!”_

And the transmission went silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another thing I've been planning for so long!!! Yes! 
> 
> We're in the final stages of this fic, now! Overall, I'm guessing about ten more chapters before we reach the finale. I'm so very excited for this final arc, which I hope ties up loose ends and ends this off with a bang! 
> 
> God, this chapter was so emotional to write. I was so excited to get to the end that my hands were legitimately shaking as I wrote the preamble to it. I've wanted this to happen for so long! 
> 
> What happened to Mira, hm? And what about Uua and Matt? After all, who knows how long ago this transmission was sent? >:D 
> 
> Also, side-note that's not about the horrible cliffhanger I just dropped on you. We hit 100,000 words!!! This is so crazy to me! I've only written one other story that was as long as this, so this it's crazy to me that we've hit this milestone. This wouldn't have happened without each and every one of you and I'm so so grateful for all the support I get every single chapter. It makes me smile like an idiot every comment I get. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading!!! Drop a comment, I'd love to hear from you! 
> 
> I'll see you all next Saturday! <3


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, sacrifices have to be made for the greater good. 
> 
> If only those sacrifices didn't hurt so badly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't beta-read, so all mistakes are on me. I hope you guys are ready for a nice heaping of angst! 
> 
> Enjoy!

It was silent on the bridge for far too long. Keith desperately wanted someone to say something - _anything_ \- but no one could find the words. Both Coran and Allura had a blank look in their eyes and Lance had gone stone-still on his left. Shiro stared without looking and Hunk had his gaze fixed firmly on Coran’s back. Pidge had both of her hands cupped over her mouth and she was trembling.

Keith wanted to ask so many things, but his mind felt like it had gone blank. Matt was in danger _._ The whole of the rebel _forces_ were in danger. For all they knew, they could all already be dead.

The thought didn’t sit well in Keith’s stomach. He felt sick.

“How…” Pidge’s voice was weak. She cleared her throat to try again but somehow ended up sounding even _meeker._ “How long ago was that transmission sent…?”

Coran moved robotically to answer. He tapped on his screen and his spine went rigid. He let his hand rest next to the other on his console and tightened both into fists.

“Three quintants,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

If the feel of the room was cold before, it was icy now. The number felt unreal. _Three_ days. Anything could have happened in that time.

Keith tightened his grip on his arms, hunching his shoulders to try and make himself as small as possible. Part of him felt responsible. If he hadn’t gotten captured in the first place, Matt would have been fine.

Keith’s stomach curled into knots.

_Matt, Uua, Mira…_

He owed them a great debt. They had rescued him from his life of imprisonment and delivered him back home to his family. He’d painted enormous targets on their backs, especially after they tried to kill Laynek. If they were _dead…_

Keith tried not to think about it.

“What…” Hunk choked on his words. “What do we do?”

Pidge looked at him like he had grown a third head. “Are you _serious?_ You’re really asking what we’re going to do now?! We’re _going to Zaaf!”_ She was near hysterical at this point. Her small fingers gripped fistfuls of her hair in her hands. She sounded on the verge of tears.

“Yeah, but…” Hunk glanced none-too-subtly at Keith. He pretended like he hadn’t seen.

“We are _not_ abandoning them!” Pidge said shrilly. She tugged on her head. “That was my _brother_ in that transmission! I’m not…” she squeezed her eyes shut, but Keith had already seen the tears brimming in them. “I’m not losing him again!”

There wasn’t a response to that. What could they say? Shrugging and abandoning the rebels to their fates wasn’t an option, but Keith was barely well enough to do small retrieval missions. They had no idea if his mind was up to forming Voltron. Going on a mission with stakes this high was going to be hard, if not _impossible._ But they couldn’t just abandon Matt and his team, either.

Keith heard Matt scream Mira’s name distantly. He tried to hide the way his hands trembled by curling them into fists.

This was his decision, at this point. The team would divide themselves between their sense of justice and their sense of family. Keith couldn’t let this happen. He had to make a choice.

But...he’d make that choice the moment Matt had screamed Mira’s name, hadn’t he?

“We’re going,” he said. He tried to make his voice firm, to leave no room for argument, but he wasn’t sure if he got his point across.

Shiro glanced at him but didn’t respond. Hunk's mouth gaped open.

“But you’re still not well enough-” he tried.

“I know,” Keith said. “But we can’t just abandon them. Matt, Mira, Uua...they saved my life. I can’t just _abandon_ them. Not after everything they’ve done for me.”

“Keith, this is not a decision to be taken lightly,” Allura warned. “Laynek and Haggar will be there. Lotor, too, if we are to take a guess. You may not be up to the task. We can go and you may stay behind-”

“No,” Keith’s voice strained. “No, I’m fighting too.”

“No, you’re not,” Shiro said. His voice was firm. “We’re going to Zaaf, but Keith stays here. Lance, you take Red. Allura, take Blue. You should still have a bond with them. We’ll form Voltron that way and keep Keith out of the battle.”

“ _What?!”_ Keith stomped his foot. Shiro’s gaze snapped to him. “No way! I have to help!”

“The best thing you can do to help is to stay here on the ship,” Shiro said. He set his hand on Keith’s shoulder. “You’re not ready for this. Not yet. Let _us_ handle the fighting.”

A thousand rebuttals built on Keith’s tongue, but he couldn’t bring himself to say any of them. Shiro stared at him, silent and waiting. Unwavering in his stance. He couldn’t fight this, could he?

Keith looked away. “Fine,” he bit out. His tone was bitter.  

Shiro dropped his hand. “I’m sorry, Keith.”

To that, Keith didn’t respond. In all honesty, he was sorry, too.

Because there was no way in hell he was letting Matt and his team die after everything they’d been through.

Not if he had anything to say about it.

 

_THREE DAYS EARLIER -_

The wounds were starting to close.

Matt ran his hand over the jagged cuts over his face and sighed. They still twinged with pain, but at the very least they’d stopped bleeding. He had to thank alien technology for that one; the cuts were already well on their way to healing. Despite that, though, Mira still insisted on bandaging them. She claimed it was to ‘protect them from further harm’, but Matt knew she was just starting to like treating wounds. She’d always liked to help and healing people’s wounds was the best way she could do that. She’d be a great medic, he knew.

If only she weren’t so forceful.

She jerked Matt’s head roughly to the side to get a better angle to press the bandages to his face. He hissed in pain, the salve she’d smothered over the gashes sticking to the fabric uncomfortably.

“Stop squirming,” she ordered.

“I’m trying not to!” Matt said pulling his head away. The bandages hung off his face like streamers. “It hurts!”

Mira gave him a dry look. To their left, Uua regarded them over his shoulder. A book in another language was open on his lap and his long legs were propped up on Matt’s desk.

“Give him a break, Mira,” he chided. “The cuts aren’t going anywhere.”

Mira gave him a dirty look but did drop her hands. Matt hid his sigh of relief. He ran his hand over the cheek Mira hadn’t gotten to yet and winced. The scabs were bumpy and rough under his fingertips. It would definitely scar. His nose was a completely different story, but the bones were mending at the very least. It would take some time before anything could be applied to speed up the healing process.

Mira’s gaze flickered down to Matt’s rolled-up pant leg. The jagged claw marks had to have been treated by the medical professionals at the base and they’d made him sit down with his entire calf wrapped in a strange goo that accelerated the healing. It had closed within a few hours, but Mira fretted over it near constantly.

“How’s your leg?” She asked suddenly. Matt grimaced.

 _Speak of the devil,_ he thought. He reached out, patting his leg gently.

“Better,” he said honestly. “I can walk on it without limping for the most part.”

“For the most part?” Uua echoed. Mira nodded in agreement, frowning at him.

“I mean, if I stand on it for too long it feels weird, but it’s fine,” Matt couldn’t resist the roll of his eyes. He knew his teammates were only doing this because they were worried, but he could handle himself. Uua nodded slowly (Mira did not look convinced) and returned to his book. “And honestly, Mira, you’re one to talk.” He tapped his neck, where thin pricks dotted her skin in-between her fur. Mira ran a hand over one of them, wincing.

“They are healing,” she said. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yeah, and so am I. Stop worrying, it’s _fine,”_ Matt rose to his feet, favoring his left leg over his right, and made his way over to Uua to lean over his shoulder. “What are you reading?”

“Not sure, honestly,” Uua stuck his thumb on the page to save his spot and flipped the book to the cover. A large, exaggerated picture of what looked like a smiling grenade adorned the cover. Matt hid his grin behind his hand. “I think it’s an instruction guide to make a new kind of bomb, but I’m not too good at Zaafian so I really can’t read it.” He shrugged and flipped the book open, squinting down at the words. Matt - who knew English, maybe two words of Spanish from his elementary school days, and enough Galran to know when they were planning to hurt someone - didn’t even want to try to understand it.

“Who gave it to you?” He asked.

 _“_ The Commander,” Uua replied. “Some kind of _present,_  I guess, for saving the Red Paladin.”

The small room fell into silence at the mention of Keith. Matt shifted awkwardly on his feet, staring out the window. He wondered how the recovery was going. Keith had been so _traumatized_ when he’d seen him last. Covered in wounds with a haunted look in his eyes that he was afraid would never leave. He had absolute faith that his teammates would care for him, but he was just worried that it wouldn’t be enough.

“I hope he’s doing better,” Matt heard himself saying.

“He is,” Mira said. “If he is as strong as you have claimed...he is certainly doing better.”

“Yeah, and if your fight with that Laynek guy is anything to go off of,” Uua rubbed a page of his book in-between his forefinger and thumb. “He’s coming back stronger than ever.”

Matt glanced out the window, letting the words churn in his skull. He remembered meeting Keith’s gaze across the battle-torn room. The smirk that had pulled at his lips.

_“Paladin. I like the sound of that.”_

Matt watched a few rebels drag an enormous crate towards a cargo ship. He felt himself smile. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, he’s going to be just fine.”

Uua dog-eared the page he was reading (Mira didn’t hide the way she cringed) and set the book on Matt’s desk. He stretched his arms over his head, glancing at the two of them.

“Well, we’re on leave until your wounds heal,” he said. “What should we do? I’ve got a few pranks we can pull on the Commander…” He smirked.

“No,” Mira said. She whacked him gently. “We are not blowing up the Commander’s quarters again.”

“It was funny,” Matt supplied unhelpfully. Mira glared at him.

“No.”

“Okay, what if it’s something that _isn’t_ destructive?” Uua said. He was reaching for his backpack he never went anywhere without. “I’ve got a few smoke bombs and a few...what are they called…? Gly-ter bombs?”

Matt felt a grin stretch over his face. “You mean a glitter bomb?”

Uua smirked impishly. He pulled out a bright pink sphere out of his backpack. “Yup.” Matt’s grin grew. His wounds tugged painfully and his broken nose pulsed, but the thought of tossing a glitter bomb at their overbearing commander was _more_ than satisfying.

“Absolutely not,” Mira said sternly.

At the same time, Matt said. “Let’s do it.”

A second later, a thunderous roar erupted from the sky. The smiles melted from both Matt and Uua’s faces. The rebels outside had stopped moving and turned their gazes up. There was a breath of silence and then-

A siren began to echo through the compound. The people outside flew into a panic, beginning to work double time or run full speed for the doors.

Matt was frozen for a moment. He didn’t have to guess to know what was going on.

The Galra had found them.

Uua leaped into action first. He jumped to his feet, scooping up his backpack and throwing it over his shoulders. “We have to go help! Activate a distress protocol or something!”

“The distress beacon will already have been activated by the Commander,” Mira said. Her voice was tight.

“Then we’ll find a fighter jet and start destroying their fleet!” Uua said. Matt, who had been shell-shocked and staring out the window suddenly paled. His throat went tight.

“That...that won’t be enough,” he whispered.

Mira and Uua turned to see what made him come to this realization and froze. Mira made a strangled noise.

A sea of Galra cruisers and fighter jets had blackened the sky. They had already started bombing, the forest alight with flames that burnt the rainforest to a crisp. A few cruisers began to land, sentries marching out and heading straight for the rebel headquarters.

“Oh _no,”_ Mira breathed. Uua’s hands curled into fists.

“You don’t know that,” he snapped at Matt. “We have to do what we can! Even if we can’t win, we have to help everyone else escape!”

Matt’s throat felt dry no matter how many times he swallowed. He knew who had to be on those ships. Laynek and the witch, on the hunt for the Red Paladin they’d lost. Lotor, too, if the size of the ambush was anything to go by.

How had they found Zaaf?

Matt had no time to dwell on it. Uua seized his upper arm with surprising strength and wrestled him into the hallway. Mira was hot on their heels, looking half-determined half-worried. Matt pulled himself into the present. There was no point in worrying about the ‘whys’ right now. He had to do what he could to make sure as many of them survived as possible.

He followed Uua through the hallways, dodging panicked rebels holding confidential files and sprinting to evac ships. A few of them had already departed. Uua forcibly parted the crowd by pushing and shoving, determined to make his way to the runway. He shoved apart two aliens that were shouting orders at each other and pulled Matt through. Mira followed, hardly turning around to offer an apology. There wasn’t enough time for one.

Uua shouldered open the doors and sprinted towards the fighter ships, which were already being swarmed with rebel forces intent on fighting. Matt followed him out and choked.

Zaaf’s air had always been thick. But at the time, it was with humidity and heat. Now, it was heavy with the scent of smoke and blaster fire. It singed Matt’s nostrils and left a horrible taste in his mouth. He could hear a roaring fire crackling its way through the forest toward them from the ion cannon blasts.

“Over here!” Uua shouted. He had his sleeve pressed over his mouth and nose and was waving wildly. Mira steered Matt in that direction as he coughed smoke out of his lungs.

The three of them piled into the fighter jet. It was a tight squeeze into the cockpit, but they managed with Uua at the controls and Mira and Matt handling their defenses. The ship hummed to life under Uua’s skillful hands and they took off through the smoke-stricken air.

Almost instantly, Mira yelped. “On our six!”

Uua instantly turned fully and Matt shot down the fighter jet that had been chasing them down. It spiraled down into the depths of the jungle and exploded. It was replaced by six others that gave chase as Uua ducked and weaved into the jungle below. The flames from the fire licked at their pod and sweat beaded Matt’s forehead. Two ships crashed into flaming tree trunks and another spiraled out of control. Uua turned sharply to avoid crashing himself and they spiraled wildly into the sky.

“Where are we going?!” Mira demanded as Matt shot down another jet.

“To a cruiser!” Uua replied. He did a barrel roll to avoid a shot from an ion cannon that made Matt’s head spin. “We have to take them down or none of us will get out!”

Mira shot down a ship that had been trying to sneak up on their left. “We’ll never make it!”

“Watch me,” Uua snapped back. He narrowed his eyes and accelerated. They shot up towards a cruiser and began to lay waste to its hull with gunfire. Mira cried out.

“They’re closing in around us!”

Uua hardly spared a glance to the monitor (that showed hundreds of tiny Galra fighter jets circling them) and drove them into a nosedive. The whole time, Matt kept up a barrage of attacks on the hull. It began to creak and groan, listing sideways and crashing into the trees below. An enormous explosion blew debris and burning leaves through the air.

Matt didn’t have time to celebrate. That was one cruiser out of dozens that clouded the sky. They had to keep working.

They shot past a rebel ship that had one of its wings blown out. They didn’t have time to stop and see if the pilot and the crew ejected themselves into safety in time. The sight left a bad feeling in Matt’s gut.

The second cruiser had seen them coming. It sent a barrage of fighter jets against them and shot desperately with every cannon it had at its disposal. It was all Uua could do to keep them from getting shot at, and every clip with the fire made the whole ship rattle.

Mira cried out. “We can’t fight this one alone!”

Matt shot down a jet. “She’s right! Uua, pull back! We have to take care of the fighters first!”

Uua cursed but did as he was told. He pulled back, ducking underneath the surrounding jets and shooting for the forest for cover.

But, Matt had to admit, that was where things started to get worse.

There was an explosion and Matt’s vision went white. He blinked furiously to clear it as the alarms in the tiny cockpit began to blare.

“We lost a wing!” Uua shouted. “We’re going down!”

“Eject!” Mira shouted. Uua nodded, moving his hand down to the button next to his seat. Matt and Mira mimicked him as Uua pressed the button. The top of the ship blew clean off, but his seat did not move like he was supposed to. Uua’s eyes widened.

“Oh no,” he said.

“What? What’s wrong?” Mira froze.

Uua didn’t answer. He looked under the seat and grimaced. His face contorted. Matt followed his gaze and his breath hitched.

In the battle, Uua’s seat had become jammed underneath his console. It had disabled the eject function and trapped his leg, sinking it underneath thick metal. Dark orange blood seeped onto the floor. Uua likely hadn’t felt it because of the adrenaline.

“Okay, okay!” Mira said. She was panicking, trying to think. “Don’t worry, we’ll...figure something out!”

“No,” Uua shook his head. He looked scared. “No, there’s not enough time. You two have to get out!”

“We’re not leaving you!” Matt cried. His voice cracked with desperation. “Uua-” Uua’s hands flew across the keyboard. Matt recognized the command. “Uua, _no!”_

Uua's hands were shaking as they worked. He was just as scared as they were. “The parachutes in your seats should activate after I eject the two of you. It'll be fine." 

“Uua-” Matt’s throat choked with emotion. “Uua, _stop it,_ we can figure this out!” This couldn’t be happening. This _couldn’t be happening-_

“Not enough time,” Uua repeated. He turned in his seat, hand hovering over the command execution button. He grimaced but was oddly calm despite the situation. The ground hurtled closer and closer below them. "It'll be fine."

“Stop saying that!" Matt choked on his words. He could feel tears brimming at his eyes but they didn’t fall.

"Please, don't do this! We can-" Mira tried to say, but Uua was having none of it. 

"It'll be fine," he said. "You guys will live. That's enough for me." 

"Uua, _no-”_ Matt tried again. He reached out as if to grab Uua and pull out from under his chair and to safety with them. Maybe he could have, but Matt would never know.

Uua smiled. “Save the universe for me, okay?”

And his hand came down on the button.

Mira screamed something as she shot like a bullet out of the cockpit. Matt had a few more seconds - precious seconds in which he tried to ingrane the memory of Uua smiling in his head forever - and followed.

The wind tore the scream from Matt’s throat. “ _Uua!”_

He tumbled through the air as below them, their ship and subsequently Uua, hurtled towards the burning forest. Matt screamed again.

“ _No!”_

At the same time the parachute unfolded, the ship hit the ground.

The explosion was deafeningly final. It sent a shockwave through the forest as shrapnel and ship parts flew in every direction. Flames swallowed the wreckage immediately, leaving nothing left as the burning rainforest continued ever-closer to the rebel base.

Mira screamed Uua’s name somewhere above him. Matt wanted to do so too but knew Uua wouldn’t respond. There was no way he would.

Uua was dead.

He was _dead_ and there was no bringing him back.

It was a very inopportune time to cry, but it happened anyways. Matt bowed his head and let out a heart-wrenching scream. Uua, the bomb-making genius whose only wish was to save the universe from the Galra’s rule, had died. He was _gone._ He’d sacrificed himself so Mira and Matt would be able to escape.

Matt bowed his head tightly as he sailed to the ground. Around him, the sounds of battle seemed muted. Faroff.

The seat landed on the runway and immediately tipped over. Hands descended upon him, demanding his status and what was going on up in the sky, but Matt choked out Uua’s name and could say no more. To his left, Mira rose from her chair and kicked it. Her hands were trembling. Crystals fell from her eyes - her version of tears.

There was an explosion and a scream and everyone surrounding Matt suddenly sprinted in another direction, presumably to go help whoever had been injured. Matt didn’t want to look, but the sight of someone dragging themselves, wailing loudly as their stump of a leg _bled_ and _burned,_ trailing glistening blood after them.

Matt lifted himself onto his arms and fumbled for his pocket. They needed backup. They’d lost one of their most important members of the force in a fiery inferno. How many other had met that same fate?

_Uua had died for their sakes._

Matt had a duty to make sure it wasn’t in vain.

He fumbled for his communicator to contact the Castle of Lions when a roar echoed across the runway. Matt’s heart skipped a beat.

Standing at the end of the runway were two very distinct figures. One was an enormous Galra wearing armor and holding a sword crackling with electricity in his hand. Beside him, her shoulders hunched and wearing a long cloak, was the witch.

“Where is my prisoner?!” Laynek bellowed. He slammed his enormous sword into the ground. Electricity crackled around it. _“Where is he?!”_

The rebels stared at them, uncomprehending for a few moments. Then chaos erupted as people ran in all directions to try and escape. Several jumped into rebel pods and shot off towards safety. Matt began scrambling backward, trying to force his mind off of his grief, but he was unsuccessful. Laynek began advancing down the runway, the witch trailing after him. She more _floated_ then walked, striking fear straight into Matt’s core.

Mira reacted first, grabbing Matt by the arm and dragging him behind cover. She wiped her eyes furiously and stared pointedly at the communicator in Matt’s hand.

“Call them,” she said. “We can hold out until they arrive. For...for his sake.”

Matt didn’t have to ask to know who she was talking about.

He called the Castle of Lions. As he expected, nobody responded. But he tried to pull himself together to leave a message. He spoke, but his voice felt foreign to his own ears.

“Voltron, I know you’re out of commission, but we need help,” he said. He tried to keep his voice as steady as possible, but Laynek and Haggar behind them and the image of Uua smiling at him from a flaming cockpit burned at the back of his eyelids. “I know you guys are busy, but _God,”_ grief shook Matt’s voice. “ _Please_ come help us. We’re under attack by the Galra. They’re after Keith.” He paused, regretting his choice in words for only a moment. Laynek decimated a ship behind them and it exploded. “They’ve killed so many of us already,” Matt continued. His stomach felt tight and he was desperately holding back tears. “The witch is here. So is...so is Laynek.” He tried to ignore a scream from behind him as Laynek found an unlucky rebel. “They’re slaughtering us. We can’t get off the planet. I know you won’t get this message until you guys have left the Sarvian System but if you get it in time…” Matt squeezed his eyes shut. “ _Help us.”_

No sooner had the words left his lips than the ship they were huddling behind was cleaved in two. Laynek’s sword had destroyed it, cutting the gas tank in half. Matt’s eyes widened.

The ship exploded. Mira threw herself in front of it, taking the brunt of the blast.

Matt screamed. “ _Mira!”_

He threw his communicator aside and sprinted toward her. Laynek watched with interest while the witch’s hands twitched with dark magic.

Mira’s front had been torn apart, blue blood seeping from in between burns. Matt propped her head onto his lap, praying that she hadn’t died too, that the world hadn’t taken another friend from him today.

“Mira, _please-”_ he thought about Uua smiling at him in the cockpit and choked. “Not you too. _Please,_ not you too-!”

Mira’s chest rose shakily and then fell. She coughed smoke out of her lungs but did not open her eyes. Matt choked on his relief.

Immediately later, the relief crawled back into his stomach to shrivel up and die as something grabbed him from behind. Mira fell from Matt’s lap as Laynek grabbed him by the throat and shoved him up against the crumbling wall of the headquarters. His eyes gleamed with bloodlust. A smirk curled on his lips, his mouth destroyed and purple leaking in between the strips of skin that failed to hide his sharp teeth.

“You again,” he seethed.

Matt choked, unable to respond.

Laynek tilted his head. “Tell me, foolhardy _rebel-”_ he punctuated the word with venom. Purple blood flecked onto Matt’s face. “Where is my prisoner?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GOD I HURT 
> 
> I got so attached to Uua and made him specifically for this fic. He was such a fun character with a dynamic personality. 
> 
> ...and now he's dead. 
> 
> I've been hinting at something like this for a while (i.e. the tags) and I mentioned wanting to kill Mira all the way back in chapter fourteen and never quite forgot the idea of killing off one of the two of them. That ended up being Uua. That scene was so heartbreaking to write, honestly. My stomach still kind of feels upset from it. But it's exactly how he would go out and I would have it no other way. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this angsty chapter, leave a comment/kudos if you did! 
> 
> I'll see you all next Saturday! <3


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith's plans go into motion. Matt suffers at Laynek's hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't beta-read, so all mistakes are on me. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Zaaf was a warzone.

Allura hid the Castle out of Galra scanner range and landed it inconspicuously on a moon. Pidge used her long-range scanners to take in the state of the planet. The results weren’t good. The lush rainforest had been reduced to stubs, burned away by the Galra ion cannons. Half of the rebel base had been reduced to rubble. The other half was smoking.

Keith stood over Pidge’s shoulder, looking down at her screen as she typed. Her fingers flew across the holographic keyboard. She looked like she was about to cry.

“That’s bad,” Hunk said.

“Oh _Dios,”_ Lance murmured. “Do you think they’re…?” He didn’t finish his sentence. Pidge hunched her shoulders.

“Don’t,” she said weakly. Lance mouth snapped shut with an audible click of his teeth.

Keith looked back to the screen. This was his fault, he realized. If he hadn’t gotten caught, if he hadn’t failed in escaping, then none of this would have happened. The rebels wouldn’t have been forced to step in to save him. Matt wouldn’t have earned a personal vendetta against him from Laynek. Their base would have been spared from the carnage.

His hands curled into fists.

He was terrified. No, beyond terrified. He had a plan forming in his head that was half-assed at best and would get him killed at worst. The others were going to object if they knew what he was going to do, but he couldn’t just abandon the rebels down there. They had risked their _lives_ to save Keith’s own. He owed them a debt.

No matter how terrified Keith was of meeting Laynek again so soon, he was a Paladin of Voltron. Paladins didn’t turn away from danger, from fear, they controlled it and in spite of the fear, they went on. Keith admired Hunk so much for this very reason. No matter how scared Hunk got, in the thick of battle he was always reliable. He was always ready to jump into the fight to save others.

Keith may have not been well enough to form Voltron or fight alongside the others in Red, but he couldn’t stand by and watch. He had to save them.

 _Uua, Mira, Matt…_ Keith thought. He prayed they were all right. That all three of them had found refuge and were far away from the fighting. He hoped they were alive. _Hold on. I’m going to help you._

“Okay, guys,” Shiro said. His tone was firm and drew heads toward him. “Game plan.”

“Go in there, bust heads, find the rebels, get out?” Lance asked.

“We can’t go in there with guns blazing,” Pidge hiccuped. She was trembling badly. “We might hit a rebel. W-We need to have a solid plan, first.”

“Evacuation, then,” Shiro said. “We’ll have to split up. Cause a diversion with some of the Lions while the others get the rebels out and onto the Castle. Black’s the biggest, so she’ll be on evac duty.”

“Yellow’s armor is really thick, so if we start getting shot at, I can provide some kind of shielding for the rebels,” Hunk volunteered. “My cargo bay’s also pretty big. I can probably fit fifty or so of them inside.”

“Okay,” Shiro nodded. “Hunk and I will work on the evac. Pidge, Lance, Allura, you guys-”

“I want to help with the evac,” Pidge said. She balled her fists into her green hoodie. “I have to see if Matt’s okay.”

Shiro’s gaze softened. “Pidge-”

“He might be dead!” Pidge said shrilly. “I can’t--I don’t…” she wrapped her arms around herself, trembling. “I don’t want to lose him again,” she whispered.

Keith didn’t have to look at Shiro to know what he was thinking. He sighed and leaned down to press his prosthetic hand against her shoulder as comfortingly as he could. Pidge lifted her head to look up at him.

“You’ll be more helpful with Lance and Allura,” he said softly. “Shiro and Hunk can keep you updated on if they find Matt or not.” _Or I will,_ he thought firmly, glancing at Shiro.

After all, there was no way he was staying cooped up on the Castle, twiddling his thumbs, until the battle was over.

Pidge looked like she was about to protest, but Allura cut in.

“I understand your frustration, Pidge, but if three lions are missing from the force, then the Galra will know that we are planning something else,” she said. “We need to keep all the attention off of Hunk and Shiro and let them do their job. We’ll be putting Matt in more danger if we don’t.”

Pidge chewed on her lower lip and nodded shortly. She clearly wasn’t happy about the arrangement, but at the very least she’d do what was asked of her.

“Okay,” Shiro squared his shoulders. “Allura, Pidge, and Lance will use their lions to act as a distraction. Lance, Allura, use the bonds you formed while I was gone to help you. We’re going to need Voltron in this fight, I can feel it.”

Keith looked at Lance. “Don’t scratch Red too badly.”

“What, are you scared?” Lance was trying to joke to ease the tension in the room. Keith didn’t know if it was working; it did nothing to release the ball of anxiety that had wound up in his stomach.

“With you at the controls?” Keith couldn’t help but feel like he was parroting an earlier version of himself. Back before any of this had started, before they realized just what they’d gotten themselves into. “ _Terrified.”_

Lance snorted and he grinned. “Don’t worry, Keith,” he said. The use of his name made Keith smile a bit. He’d half expected Lance to call him ‘mullet’. “I’ll be careful.”

“Come back alive,” Keith told him. He glanced around the room at the others. “That goes for all of you, too. Don’t die out there.”

“I will provide support from the Castle from afar,” Coran said. “Covering fire and the like. That way, Keith and I won’t be entirely out of the fight.”

Keith couldn’t meet Coran’s eyes given what he was planning. Coran’s smile faded.

Shiro set his hand on Keith’s shoulder. “I know it’s frustrating being kept here while everyone else goes out to fight, but it’s best if you stay here. We don’t know if you’re ready to face Laynek, yet.”

“I know,” Keith said. The words felt empty.

Shiro nodded, apparently none the wiser of what Keith had in store. “Suit up, team. Let’s get in there and save the rebels.”

Normally, that was the cue for everyone to cheer loudly and shout “yeah!” with their fists in the air, but Shiro’s words were met with nothing but solemn nods. This fight was different from any other battle thus far. It had so much more at stake, was so much more _real_ than any that had come before.

The other battles felt disconnected. They were just another battle of another war they had nothing to do with. But now, there was family on Zaaf. There were saviors on Zaaf. There was a person that had ripped one of their own to shreds on Zaaf.

This battle wasn’t just for the good of the universe, it was _personal._

One by one, the others left the control room to suit up in their Paladin armor. Keith’s own had been destroyed, but he knew Shiro had Coran make him an extra pair just in case. That would have to do.

Within a few minutes, the others were back, helmets under their arms and expressions set with grim determination.

“Are we all ready?” Allura asked.

“As we’ll ever be,” Hunk said. He was shifting from foot to foot, looking nervous but his resolve was set.

“Come back safe,” Keith said.

“We will,” Shiro promised. He reached out for Keith’s hand and Keith took it in some pseudo-handshake. Shiro tugged him in and Keith pressed his nose into Shiro’s shoulder and shut his eyes. Shiro’s free arm wrapped around him. “Don’t do anything reckless,” Shiro said.

“I won’t,” Keith lied.

Shiro pulled away and went to go stand on the elevator that would bring him to Black. Within seconds, his teammates had descended into the hangars. Coran turned to his station, hands flying over the controls.

“Be sure to let the Red, Green, and Blue Lions in first,” Coran warned. “They’ll be so focused on them, they won’t see the Black and Yellow Lions sneaking in behind them.”

“Roger,” Lance’s voice crackled through the comms. “Whew, it’s weird to be in Red’s cockpit again! Hello, beautiful.”

Keith felt the pleased rush from Red warm his spine. He snorted. “Stop cozying up to her. She’s my Lion.”

“Of course, of course!” Lance said with a laugh. “Besides, Blue’s the only one for me.”

“Okay,” Shiro said. “Ready, team?” There was a chorus of affirmatives. Pidge’s was the quietest of all. “Let’s go.”

Keith watched the Lions launch from their hangars and shoot towards the war-torn Planet Zaaf. As soon as the first shots were fired from Allura and Lance, Keith turned around on his heel. It was time to begin.

From behind him, Coran spoke. “Come back safe.”

Keith froze and turned, one foot out the door. “What?”

Coran turned to him with a smile. It was a sad one. “You’re not as subtle as you think you are.”

Keith winced. “Oh,” was all he could say.

“I watched Allura grow up,” Coran said. “I know when someone is planning something they should not be. But...I realize I cannot stop you.”

Keith put his hand on the doorframe. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Coran said. He sounded hundreds of years older than he was. “I know how strong the need to repay a debt is. I have felt it, too.”

“Coran…” Keith’s voice was a lot more choked then he’d intended for it to be.

“Go,” Coran said firmly. “Go and come back safely. I will give you ten minutes until I inform the others. Use one of the pods.”

“Thank you,” Keith said. He felt more determined than ever. “I’ll save them. I’ll save Mira, Matt, and Uua. I’ll bring them back here, _alive.”_

“I know you will,” said Coran.

Keith smiled at Coran’s back. “Thank you,” he said again and meant it.

And he stepped out of the bridge.

If only he knew how ultimately futile his attempts were going to be.

 

Shiro’s armor was exactly where Keith expected it to be. In the back of his closet, hung neatly with every part polished to perfection. Keith couldn’t help but smile as he changed into it. It felt weird to be wearing black instead of red, but he couldn’t find it in himself to mind about the color much. He headed to his room next door to collect his mother’s knife and his bayard, tucking one into one of the chinks in his armor and the other vanishing in a flash of light.

Before he left, Keith caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror.

He looked better than how he did a few days ago. Less sallow, less sunken. He looked much more _alive_ then he’d been the day he’d gotten out of the pod. He looked better. He looked like him.

Swallowing down his anxiety ( _You’re going to see Laynek again,_ his brain reminded him unhelpfully) Keith left Shiro’s room in his armor and sprinted toward the pod hangar. He’d already used up five of Coran’s ten minutes and he had to be close to Zaaf by then so no one could stop him.

He vaulted into the pod using his prosthetic arm and started it up. The glass closed in around him as the hangar doors opened for him. He took a minute to familiarize himself with the Altean controls and set his resolve. He was going to do this. He was going to save Matt, Mira, and Uua, too. Nothing could stop him.

Keith shot out of the hangar.

He followed the carnage that the Lions had left in their wake, rocketing toward Zaaf as fast as he could. Time was about to run out until the team found out what he had done. No one could stop him. He had to do this.

Five minutes came and went, and yet no Lions shot in pursuit of Keith’s tiny pod. He counted the little blessings as he weaved around destruction. The Lions had done far too good a job of clearing out the fighters. It gave Keith a clear shot into the planet.

He descended into Zaaf’s atmosphere. Even if they were looking for him, now it was too late. He landed with dust and ash rising around him and climbed out of the pod. The rainforest was even more devastating in person. Bits of shrapnel had embedded themselves into stumps that had once been magnificent trees. Ash covered the runway. The fighter pods had all been destroyed. Half of the rebel base had caved in on itself, the vines covering it burned into nothing.

Keith felt sick looking at it, but he couldn’t stop now.

Swallowing back the anxiety, the fear, and his memories of the monster he was about to face, Keith stepped into the crumbling base.

 

Matt choked on his own blood. He’d always thought steel-toed boots were kind of cool, but not now. Not now that one was being beaten repeatedly into his stomach.

He tried to roll over to escape it, but claws sank into his hair and tugged, lifting him off the ground. The sudden change made him cry out in pain. Blood dribbled down his chin.

“ _Speak,_ Rebel,” Laynek snarled. “Tell me where my prisoner is.”

Matt clenched his jaw and remained silent. He had no bearing on how much time had passed between him and Mira getting captured and now. He had no idea where Mira was and he found little solace in the fact that Laynek seemed more interested in Matt then he did her. For all he knew, she had to deal with Haggar while Matt’s stomach took in the brutal edge of Laynek’s boot over and over again.

Laynek sneered and smashed Matt’s face into the wall. Blood spurted from his nose. He felt the bridge start to fracture all over again. Blood began to seep down Matt’s face and into his mouth. He shuddered.

“There is nothing you can do to hide him from me,” Laynek snarled. His lips were right next to Matt’s ear. He could feel the blood from what was left of his lips dripping into his hair. “He cannot escape me. He is _my_ Prisoner.”

“Go to hell,” Matt snarled. His voice was nasally.

Laynek roared something but Matt’s ears had already begun ringing. His face hit the ground again. Blood began to pool around him as his nose shattered again with a horrifying sounding _crack._ Matt screamed hoarsely.

“ _Tell me!”_ Layenk shouted. “

Matt kept his mouth shut. Laynek pressed all of his weight onto his knee pressing against the small of Matt’s back. He let out a low keen of pain.

“I believe,” Laynek snarled. “Given to what _you_ have reduced me to...an explanation is in order.”

Despite being in utter _agony,_ Matt was suddenly flooded with fury.

 _How dare he._  

It was because of Laynek that Keith had lost his spark. It was because of Laynek that the rebels had been reduced to prisoners in their own building.

It was because of Laynek that _Uua had died._

With a hoarse cry, Matt gathered all his strength and used his hands to shove himself upward. The back of his skull smashed into Laynek’s nose. Layenk grunted in surprise, stumbling backward.

“Shut the _hell_ up,” Matt snarled. He was trembling he was so angry. “I do not owe you _anything. You_ hurt Keith. _You_ hurt my friend. You _killed_ my friend! Don’t you dare act like I need to give you anything!”

Laynek recovered faster then Matt had expected. Within a second, Matt’s vision went white and he was suddenly on the ground. His ribs ached with a bruise that would definitely be there within a few hours. His arm was twisted painfully against his back, pressed between his shoulder blades. If he moved even a single muscle, he’d dislocate his shoulder.

“It appears,” Laynek hissed. “Some firmer _persuasion_ is in order.”

At once, all the rage Matt had summoned had died out, like a fire. He suddenly understood Keith’s primal fear of this Galra; he was terrifying in every sense of the word. From pure intimidation to ruthlessness, he was at the top of the charts when it came to the cruelest Galra in the world.

Laynek’s free hand gripped Matt’s finger between two of his own. He began to _pull,_ bending the digit backward. He put his enormous thumb on Matt’s second knuckle and the other under Matt’s fingerpad. Matt cried out as he felt the bone stretch in a way it wasn’t supposed to go.

“Where is my Prisoner?” Snarled Laynek.

Matt geared himself for the incoming pain. He wasn’t going to tell Laynek anything. Keith was safe, far outside of Laynek’s grasp. He’d take that secret to the grave if it was what was needed. Pain was not unfamiliar to him. He could do this.

In his silence, Laynek pulled the finger backward. From the knuckle, the bone snapped. It was a clean break. Pins and needles unlike anything Matt had felt before shot up his whole arm. He screamed. Laynek didn’t allow Matt any reprieve as he gripped the next finger and pulled on it. The knuckle protested painfully.

“Tell me,” he snarled.

Matt shut his eyes tightly, wondering what would make Laynek angrier; his silence or snarky comments. He was good at them both, but call Matt selfish, he wanted to find the option that would give him the least amount of pain. If Laynek planned on breaking every single one of his fingers individually…

Matt wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep his sanity.

The next bone snapped. Matt’s scream - louder this time - was swallowed by the floor.

“How many will it take?” Laynek said in a mocking tone. “How much of you will I have to break until you cave?”

Matt gritted his teeth. He couldn’t help himself. “As many as you fucking _want,”_ he snarled. “You killed Uua.”

Laynek sneered. “The bomb-maker? _How pitiful._ I’m sure his death was just as meaningless as his life.”

Rage swelled like a balloon in Matt’s chest. “His death was not-”

Laynek snapped Matt’s next knuckle. He cut himself off with a loud wail of pain as it flopped uselessly as Laynek released it. Tears burst into Matt’s eyes. Laynek grabbed his ring finger.

“My Prisoner was much like your bomb-making friend,” Laynek said. Matt could hear the smirk in his voice. “ _Pitiful._ Primitive. Both of them deserved their fates.”

Matt couldn’t help but take the bait. “You motherfu-” Another snap. Another scream. Matt’s pinky was next.

 _Shut up shut up shut up,_ Matt’s brain begged him through a haze of agony and anger, but he couldn’t help himself. Laynek was insulting Uua’s memory. Uua, who had sacrificed himself for the cause. Bomb-loving, prank-loving Uua. The wound was still fresh and any who insulted a dead man was a coward. Especially a dead man who’d paid the ultimate price for the sake of the universe.

_“Save the universe for me, okay?”_

Tears flooded Matt’s eyes. He missed Laynek’s next taunt over his sob, missed the low chuckle over his next scream.

“Uua-” Matt choked, squirming fruitlessly. Laynek had wrapped his hand around Matt’s thumb, pressing his own on the bone just under the knuckle. “Uua, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-” Matt wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for. Letting Laynek insult what he’d sacrificed, or just the survivor’s guilt of being able to leave while Uua had to go up in a fiery inferno. Matt never got to find out as Laynek pulled and his thumb snapped in half.

At the same time Matt screamed, the door burst open. There was a scream of his name - _Uua?_ Matt’s pain muddled mind wondered with a spark of grief - and Laynek whipped around.

Someone shouted.

“ _Get the hell off him!”_

Matt lifted his head. He saw a flash of black, amethyst eyes that _burned_ and suddenly Laynek was on the ground with a familiar figure sitting on top of him, a throwing knife pressed into his throat.

Matt blinked the tears out of his eyes. They rolled pitifully down his cheeks. He spoke, and his voice was raspy.

“Keith?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry! D: 
> 
> I missed two updates, I know! Things have been so so hectic lately. I'm trying my best to manage what's left of my senior year by applying for colleges, scholarships, all the fun stuff. Also, a project I have to pass or I don't graduate. What fun times. But, with those presentations coming up this Wednesday, I think things are finally starting to calm down. Updates should resume as normal! 
> 
> Anyways, writing Keith without any knowledge of Uua's fate *hurt*. this poor kid is in for a world of pain once he figures out what happened. And, once I fill in the gaps of how Keith got to Matt's cell and what happened after >:D I've got so many plans. 
> 
> You're not free from suffering yet, Keith! 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Leave comments/kudos if you did, I'd love to hear from you! 
> 
> You can find my Tumblr [here](https://chocolatechip-master.tumblr.com/) so if there's a certain one-shot/topic that you want me to write, just throw an ask into my inbox! :D
> 
> I'll see you all next Saturday! <3


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith rushes to save Matt, Mira, and Uua, but gets to confront an old enemy instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't beta-read, so all mistakes are on me. 
> 
> Enjoy!

The warm, welcoming hallways Keith had been carried through were no more. He was in near disbelief as he crept through the rubble, trying to remain unseen.

When he’d been here last, the hallways were bright and crowded, aliens from all walks of life bustling to attend to one matter or another. Now it was eerily desolate, the fluorescent lights in pieces and Galra patrols passing by every few minutes.

Pressing his back against a fallen boulder, Keith sucked in a slow breath to try and calm down. Bad memories were pressing at the back of his subconscious, reminding him of where he was, of who he was going to face.

 _This is for Matt and his team,_ Keith reminded himself. _For everything they did for me._

They must have been scared out of their wits when they’d infiltrated a Galra ship to find him. It was high time he returned the favor.

Keith ducked down and snuck around another patrol that clunked by, sentries on high alert. Pressing against the wall, he breathed out carefully through his nose in a vain attempt to get himself to calm down and think.

He didn’t think any of the rebels had been brought to the Galra ships. They were still orbiting around the planet (from what he saw) and the others - especially not Pidge - wouldn't have shot them down if they didn’t think there were people on it. Besides, Laynek, Haggar, and Lotor were tricky. It would be just like them to make it look like their prisoners had been kept on the main fleet-ship to divert attention away from where they were actually being kept.

So that just left the main headquarters.

Keith tried to remember what little he knew about the layout of the base, chewing his lower lip.  There were any prison cells in here - all rebel prisoners were taken somewhere far away from Zaaf so their main headquarters to be interrogated. Which only solidified the fact that this attack was entirely Keith’s fault. He tried to ignore the writhing guilt festering in his stomach, but it didn’t work very well.

_Focus._

There weren’t any prison cells in this headquarters so there had to be something that worked just as well. Some kind of room they could use as a makeshift prison cell.

Keith’s expression cleared.

_Maybe…_

The Galra _were_ prone to being very stereotypical when it came to being evil. If they were looking for someplace to keep prisoners that was dark and quiet…

Well, it was a relief that Keith knew where the stairs to the basement were.

Carefully, he took a few steps forward, looking both left and right for sentries and sprinted across the hallway. Heart pounding with adrenaline, he ducked into a vaguely familiar corridor and paused to catch his breath. He could see the stairs from where he was standing and had to force down the rising panic.

He had no idea what was down there. He wasn’t sure if he was going to go down those stairs and see the mangled bodies of those he was coming to save. He had no idea if as soon as he turned a corner, he’d be face-to-face with Laynek.

He wasn’t ready for this.

But...did he ever really have a choice?

Forcing his legs to move, Keith made his way down the stairs.

Every step was ominously loud on the concrete. Cracks spidered across the surface of the stairs. Keith held his breath as he walked, trying not to think about what he’d see at the bottom.

The stairs leveled out into an ominous dark corridor. Keith didn’t know if it was kept like this on purpose while the rebels were in control of Zaaf or if it was a result of the Galra just wanting to create a darker atmosphere. Keith had heard the darker the corridor then the faster prisoners would succumb to pressure.

He closed his eyes and purple painted the back of his eyelids. The idea wasn’t so far fetched, he decided with a shudder.

The rest of the hallway was featureless, with heavy metal doors spaced out evenly on either side as far as Keith could see. There was a slot over the top. Some of them were closed. A few were open, and he swore he heard a few pained whimpers echoing from behind them.

_Oh god..._

Gathering his courage, Keith stepped out into the corridor. It was empty - devoid of life or machinery. Keith swallowed thickly trying to quell the raging of his heartbeat. He couldn't remember the last time he’d been so _nervous._

“Breathe,” he told himself and his voice echoed. He clapped his hands over his mouth, praying for every God he knew of that no one had heard.

“K-Keef?”

Keith froze.

He knew that voice. The was only one person who mispronounced his name like that.

“Mira?” He whispered hoarsely. He looked around for any sign of white fur. “Mira, where are you?”

“Here-” Mira said breathlessly. A pair of icy blue eyes appeared in one of the slow. One of them was swollen and stood up out on her face like a sore thumb. Keith rushed toward her.

“Mira, you’re okay!” He said breathlessly. “Well...not really but you’re alive. Where are Matt and Uua?”

Mira ducked her head away from the slot. “I do not know where Matthew is. A-And Uua…” her voice choked with emotion. Keith’s blood ran cold. “Uua is-”

They were cut off by a blood-curdling scream.

It came from a few cells down the hallway. Keith froze and turned toward it. Mira gasped sharply.

“M-Matthew,” she breathed. “Keef, you _must_ get me out of here. We have to help him! I cannot...I cannot lose another-”

“I got it,” Keith interrupted. “I’ll get you out just...give me a second.”

He tried to think over the panic. If that scream belonged to Matt, then there had to be someone in the room with him. And there was only one person that it could be.

He felt sick.

Keith knew there was a possibility of finding and facing Laynek while he was here, but he had hoped that he could manage to avoid the Galra like the plague. Apparently, it wasn’t to be. Keith wondered if their fates had been intertwined in the sickest way possible.

There was another scream. 

“Keef!” Mira said, her voice urgent.

Keith jumped and forced himself to focus. He swallowed down the lump in her throat and focused instead on the moment. Mira needed a way out. They needed to help Matt, regardless of circumstances.

He bent down to examine the hinge. There was a sizeable gap in-between the frame and the lock. It looked rusty and given enough force he could probably break it open.

Extending his arm, Keith’s bayard materialized in his hand. He willed it to take form and it began to glow (for a split second, Keith recognized his broadsword in the glowing mass) and a moment later he was holding his throwing knife. A third scream echoed down the corridor. Keith swallowed down the thickness in his throat and knelt in front of the door. He jammed his knife into the gap and shoved it the opposite way.

The door snapped open with more force then what Keith was expected. It clanged loudly against the opposing wall and he winced, hoping no one had heard. He rose unsteadily to his feet and glanced at Mira and winced.

Her fur was matted with blood and her eye was in even worse shape then he’d thought. She tried smiling at him but it was grim. She opened her mouth to speak, but another gut-wrenching scream made her ears twitch and she looked down the corridor.

“Do you know where he is?” Keith asked.

Mira didn’t reply but she sprinted past him towards the far side of the hallway. Keith tore after her.

The screams were louder this way.

There was no mistaking it now. There was only one person Keith knew of that could be cruel for the sake of pain. He’d been praying, hoping against hope that it was anyone else, but it wasn’t.

It was time for a reunion with Laynek.

Mira paused, panting and out of breath, in front of one of the doors farthest down the hallway. She looked desperately at Keith.

“Please,” she begged. Keith didn’t have to ask if this was Matt’s cell. Judging from Mira’s desperation and the thick smell of blood that permeated the air, he knew he was in the right place. Jamming the knife back into the gap between the hinge and the door (this one, somehow, was in a state of even worse disrepair than the other one) and pulled. The lock snapped off and Keith pushed it open.

In that moment, Keith saw many things. He saw Matt with his arm behind his back, his broken hand in the grip of claws he was all too familiar with. He saw tears as Matt mouthed a name to himself. He saw Laynek, his head spinning to stare at the door with his lips (or what was left of them) bared in a snarl.

Matt sobbed and Keith saw red.

This was the person who’d risked life and limb to save his life. Who had let him cry on his shoulder after all was said and done and ask ‘why me’?

No longer was this about repaying a debt.

This was about saving a friend. Saving another addition to the family Keith had been building piece by delicate piece.

And regardless of the power Laynek held over him, Keith would let nothing take that away from him.

_Nothing._

Keith started moving before his brain could catch up. He opened his mouth, furious gaze fixed upon Laynek.

“ _Get the hell off him!”_

Next thing Keith knew he had Laynek on the ground below him, legs on either side of his torso to keep him pinned. His throwing knife was pressed against his throat, applied with so much force it was drawing blood.

Matt stirred next to him. He gurgled something and then spoke again. His voice was hoarse from screaming and thick with tears.

“Keith?”

Keith did not answer. He kept his gaze on Laynek below him, who was slowly starting to come to his senses. Behind him, Mira rushed to Matt’s aid, gasping at the state of his fingers. Matt called his name again, but Keith was no longer listening. Instead, he was slowly beginning to freeze. His grip on his knife loosened. Laynek fixed him with a stare and laughed. Blood slithered down his chin between the strips of skin.

“My Prisoner,” Laynek hissed. “At _last.”_

Keith’s mind went blank.

He choked and flailed backward out of instinct. His head was flooded with memories; being electrocuted with his sight stolen from him and watching dark eyes leer at him as his arm was torn into shreds.

Keith tried to speak but was unable to.

“How I have _waited,”_ Laynek drew himself to his feet. “It seems I did not have to get your location out of that meddlesome rebel after all. Perhaps though...his head would look fine on a pike in my trophy room.”

Matt let out a terrified whimper. His head was cradled in Mira’s arms as she fixed Laynek with a glare rivalling even Keith’s best.

“You will hurt no one else,” she snarled “You have already taken our friend. We _will_ avenge him.”

“You mean the bomb-maker?” Laynek said. He was smirking. Purple blood was gushing down his chin. “What was his name again?” He made a mockery of tapping his chin, looking thoughtful.  

Keith froze. He’d felt like time around him had slowed to a sluggish freeze.

_The bomb-maker._

“Uua…?” He breathed. He glanced at Mira and Matt, hoping Laynek was bluffing to try to get them to panic. Maybe Laynek had Uua elsewhere and was trying to tell them of a fate he hadn’t quite suffered yet. The expression on Matt and Mira’s faces said otherwise. Both of them had filled with grief. Matt’s eyes were flooded with unshed tears again. “No...Uua _no…”_

“Uua,” Laynek repeated. Keith felt his stomach tie itself into knots as he realized he’d unwittingly given the Galra what he had wanted. “A pitiful name for a being living a pitiful existence.”

“Shut the hell up!” Matt shouted. His tear-filled eyes blazed with fury and pain. “Uua, he-” he choked on a sharp intake of air. “Uua died a _hero.”_

Time fell still.

Keith felt the dread and grief wrack him to the very core.

He hadn’t known Uua well, but he’d risked his life - his whole existence - on a rescue mission that could have gone wrong. Keith had come here to save him. To save _all_ of them. Unwittingly, he’d already failed.

Three days ago, Keith had failed to save those that had saved him.

“No…” he put his head in his hands. “No, no, no, _no!”_

“Keith-” Matt tried to say but Laynek beat him to it.

“How does it feel, Prisoner?” he whispered. “Do you feel the despair? The inevitability of all that had happened? Those that defy the Galra meet a fate nothing less than death. These two are no different. But you...you deserve a fate far _worse."_

“No…” Keith clung desperately onto what he’d been told the past week. Of all the love and care and patience that had been put into his recovery. “Stop calling me that-”

“You are a Prisoner,” Laynek snarled and blood flecked onto Keith’s hands. They were still cradling his face. “Nothing more, nothing less. You will _remain_ a Prisoner for all time. A test subject for the witch. A plaything for me. _That_ is your fate. And upon the conclusion of this day, where we destroy Voltron and their Paladins once and for all, you will return to that life.”

“No…” Keith had a vivid image of the Lions spiraling out of the sky. Of Shiro lying on the ground in a pool of his own blood, motionless. “ _Stop it…”_

“Leave him alone!” Mira shouted. Matt wiped tears out of his eyes with his good hand and nodded vehemently in agreement.

“It appears some of your spark has returned,” Laynek ignored them. He took one enormous step closer to Keith and he flinched back violently. “It is no matter. I will stamp it out and you will become nothing but a broken child once more, _Prisoner.”_

Keith shut his eyes tightly.

He didn’t want that. He didn’t want to return to that life of agony and fear. He’d been given so much love and patience over this past week that losing it was an unbearable thought. Just as Laynek had said - a fate worse than death.

He didn’t want that.

He didn’t want that.

_He didn’t want that._

Laynek sneered. “No words, Prisoner?”

 _Stop,_ Keith thought. _Stop calling me that._

“Are you imagining what life will be like once we are victorious?” Laynek sneered. Keith’s hands curled into fists on his face. His nails left trails of red in their wake.

_I am not your prisoner._

“Well, let me assure you,” Laynek leaned in. “Life will be far worse then what it was, _Prisoner.”_

“ _Stop calling me that!”_ Keith screamed. Laynek’s eyebrows lifted in surprise as Keith looked up and fixed him with a glare.

“What?” He snarled, lifting his hand. Keith flinched but did not back down.

“I told you to stop calling me that!” He said. His voice did not betray his fear and Keith was proud of how strong he sounded. “I am _not_ your Prisoner!”

“If not my prisoner, then what?” Laynek taunted. “You are but a half-breed. A stain upon the proud Galra history. An irregularity among the regular. You are _nothing!”_

“I not nothing,” Keith insisted, rising to his feet. “I’m half-human, half-Galra. I am someone who overcame what _you_ did to him! I am a Paladin of Voltron!”

“No longer are you-” Laynek said but Keith had had enough. Remembering the training he’d done with Allura and Shiro, Keith hefted his throwing knife and threw it.

It impaled Laynek between the eyes. He roared in pain and gripped the dagger from where it had sunk far enough into his skin to be a nuisance and ripped it out. Blood sprayed from the wound, splattering on the side of Keith’s armor. Taking advantage of his weakened state, Keith charged and grabbed Laynek around the middle and smashed him against the wall.

He was rusty, but his stance was firm. He grabbed Laynek by the face and smashed the back of his head against the wall. Laynek roared once and his eyes rolled up into the back of his head. He collapsed and was still, but Keith could still count the number of times his chest rose and fell.

“Keith...holy _shit,”_ Matt breathed. “That was…”

“There’s no time,” Keith said firmly. “I’ve only knocked him out so we have to move fast. Before he wakes up.”

“Of course,” Mira said. “Matthew, can you stand?”

Matt nodded and used his good hand to brace himself against the wall and climb awkwardly to his feet. He stumbled, clearly favoring his left leg, and closed his eyes tightly. After a moment, he opened his eyes and fixed them on Keith. He wasn’t surprised by how grief-stricken they were.

“Keith,” Matt spoke lowly. “About...about Uua…”

Keith felt a cold fist seize his heart and he tried to ignore it. He looked away to hide the tears pulling at his eyes. “Not...not right now. We should get you guys out...then we can discuss it.”

“Right…” Matt said softly. “Right, of course.” He glanced at Mira and the two of them shuffled out of the room together. Keith took one last glance at Laynek’s downed body and closed his eyes tightly.

This wasn’t the last time he was going to see Laynek, he was sure of it.

But now, he knew, that this fight was going to end today. Only one of them was getting off Zaaf, and Keith was determined to make sure it wasn’t Laynek.

Keith turned and followed Mira and Matt out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a day late, but it's here! 
> 
> I know you guys are probably sick of me spouting excuses and apologizing, but I really am sorry. I was called out last minute to go hang out with friends and since this is my last opportunity to do so before everything changes, I decided to take them up on the offer. I intended to update when I got home but...well you saw how well that worked out. I promise though, updates will resume as normal and I'll inform you in the chapter before if I can't, since there are things that are coming up this month and the next that will require all my attention. 
> 
> Anyways, Laynek and Keith have met again! And, it's not going to be the last time. Not if I have a say in it >:D there is going to be a bigger battle, but I think it'll need everyone to be as good as I want it. After all, everyone wants a piece of Laynek for what he's done to Keith. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Leave a comment/kudos if you did, I would love to hear from you! 
> 
> See you all next Saturday! 
> 
> Come scream at me on my [tumblr!](https://chocolatechip-master.tumblr.com/)


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Paladins must fight their own battles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't beta-read, so all mistakes are on me. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Lance had forgotten how fast Red was. It’d taken several attempts, a lot of coaxing, and a few close dodges to get the hang of the new controls. 

He followed behind the others as they shot towards the planet. Allura - ever the natural - had bonded with Blue just as easily as she had all those years ago. 

Together they shot down Galra fleet-ships, tearing their way. Lance tried to stay focused, but he couldn’t help but let his thoughts wander. He was in Keith’s lion, Keith who hated staying out of the fight because it made him feel useless. He tried to imagine Keith sitting on the floor of the bridge, staring up at Coran’s enormous screen and just  _ waiting.  _

He couldn’t. 

Keith was never one to sit back and wait while others did the heavy lifting for him. He was active, he fought at the forefront. He didn’t stay behind to wait. At his core, Keith was still Keith. He was still a boy of unimaginable passion and purpose. He was still stubborn and quick to anger. He was still protective. Nothing had changed that. 

Lance felt dread pool into his stomach. 

Why would that change now? 

There was no way Keith would sit and wait for them to come back. Absolutely none. They were fools if they actually believed he’d step aside and watch. 

_ Oh no.  _

Lance opened his mouth. “Guys-” 

At the same time, the comms crackled to life. “Paladins.” 

It was Coran. He didn’t sound panicked (which eased Lance’s fear a little) but rather tired and resigned. 

_ Like he’d watched someone make a decision and could do nothing to stop them--oh God, Lance stop stop- _

“Coran?” Shiro asked. “Something wrong?” 

Coran was silent for a moment. Lance’s throat went dry. If he was right and Keith had made another impulsive decision...this would be the moment of truth. 

All the wind was knocked out of Lance’s body like he’d been hit at Coran’s following words. 

“Keith is gone.” 

There was panic all over the comms. Pidge was shouting, Allura was demanding to know where he was, Hunk was incoherent, and Shiro sighed and muttered things under his breath. 

Lance was silent. 

They should have seen this coming. Shiro, over anyone, should have seen this coming. This was  _ Keith  _ they were talking about, and traumatized or not, he wouldn’t abandon the fight to sit behind and cower. He’d fight. Even if it put himself in the line of fire. 

“Guys,” Shiro said loudly and the chatter fell into silence. He sighed once more. “I can’t say I’m not surprised. Did he take a pod?” 

“Yes,” Coran said. He let the word hang in the air for a moment before continuing. “...I let him go.” 

“ _ What?”  _ Pidge’s voice was so high-pitched Lance cringed, moving his head away. “Why would you do that?” 

“He had made his decision,” Coran murmured. He sounded so tired - a thousand years older than he was. “I was in no position to tell him no.” 

Shiro exhaled sharply. He was likely withholding an immense panic. “Track the coordinates of that pod. We’re going in after him.” 

“And what if we find him?” Lance finally managed to find his voice. “We just put him back on the Castle with Coran to wait everything out? Because we all saw how well  _ that  _ worked out.” 

“No,” Shiro said. “We’ll keep him with us. In one of our cockpits.  _ God…”  _ he let out a groan. 

“We should have seen this coming,” Allura said. “It’s not like Keith to stay behind while the rest of us jump into battle.” 

“Coordinates located,” Coran said. “He’s made it to the surface of the planet. I’ve got no bearing on if he’s still inside.” 

“Thanks, Coran,” Shiro sighed. “Change of plans - Pidge, Allura, and Hunk will go and distract the Galra. Lance and I go after Keith.” 

A horrible thought occurred to Lance. “What if he ran into Laynek?” 

Shiro was silent for far longer than Lance would have liked. It was not a happy thought. Keith facing down the pinnacle of his fears, the embodiment of all the pain he’d suffered through with the Galra?  _ Alone?  _ Even Lance felt sick at that thought.

He and Keith had never gotten along. Lance had tried to push the ‘rivalry’ agenda until recently and had seen Keith as someone to strive to become, rather than a person with limits. This past week he’d gotten to know the Keith underneath his thick skin, with all of his walls down, open and vulnerable. Keith was a part of the family now and the idea of him facing down a fear alone made his brother instincts tremble. He didn’t like the image and the longer it stayed in his head the worse he felt. 

Shiro finally spoke. “We fight him. He’s not hurting Keith. Never again.” 

“Agreed,” Pidge snarled. “Save a part of him for me, okay?” 

“Gladly,” Lance answered in Shiro’s stead. 

“Okay, team,” Shiro said. “Let’s do this.” 

“Be careful,” Hunk warned them. 

“We will,” Lance promised. 

They descended into Zaaf. No Galra ships pursued them as the Lions skimmed what remained of the beautiful rainforest. They split off through the middle, Hunk, Allura, and Pidge going to engage a cruiser that had turned its ion cannon to them, while Lance and Shiro went top-speed toward the ruins of the base. 

Lance didn’t like how close the coordinates were to the rubble. He didn’t like how they hadn’t moved, either. 

The terrible feeling in his gut grew. 

“Please be okay,” Lance whispered, uncaring if Shiro could hear him through the open line. “ _ Please.”  _

As if in answer, there was an explosion. The base began to crumble, enormous boulders shattering into bits as they hit the ground. 

Then, a fraction of a second later, he lost control of Red. 

She abandoned course away from the pod he could now make out among destroyed fighter jets and shot directly for the base. He heard Shiro shout his name. He heard panic in the comms as his friends fought for their lives. 

And somehow, Red’s roar for her Paladin was loudest of all. 

Shiro watched Red writhe towards the rebel base like her life depended on it. It was clearly not of Lance’s own will - it meant her Paladin was in danger. That  _ Keith  _ was in danger. 

Shiro turned tail to follow. He shot after Red, but Black simply wasn’t as fast as her. She was already diving at the rubble and slamming her whole body against it. What was left of the building shuddered. 

“Shiro, I don’t know -  _ oh Dios  _ \- I don’t know what’s going on!” Lance shouted. 

“I know, hang on buddy, I’m coming to help-” Shiro never finished his sentence. 

He sensed the attack before he felt it.

Black began to convulse and dark electricity began sparking up her dashboard. In an instant it had overwhelmed him, wrapping around his legs and torso and screaming. It was like getting his like his own personal Komar. 

It was a power that was all too familiar to him. 

The console went dark and Shiro went plummeting to the ground. He heard Lance scream his name before the comms faded into nothing but static. Shiro shut his eyes and braced himself for impact. 

Black hit the ground with a thunderous  _ BOOM.  _ The force of it knocked Shiro forward, his head smashing into the console. The glass visor shattered into a thousand tiny pieces, raining down at his feet and cutting at his face on the way down. Shiro gasped as his head snapped back up, slamming it directly into his chair. He was lucky both his helmet and his seat cushioned the blow. 

For a moment, Shiro allowed himself to breathe. Black would come online soon surely. All he had to do was hold out for a little bit. 

Ever so slowly Black’s systems came back online. The screen flickered to life in front of him and Shiro almost sighed in relief. Dusting the last of the glass out of his face, he reached for the controls-

And  _ froze.  _

Strolling towards him was Haggar. Her cloak seemed to whisper as she walked, her hands crackling with dark magic. She lifted her head so she could stare fiercely at Shiro through her cold, unblinking eyes. 

Shiro’s mind went blank. Out of pure desperation, he began pulling on the controls, begging Black to wake up. Her presence stirred in the back of his head, like someone just waking from a long sleep. 

Shiro’s hands trembled. He pushed harder and just as the last of Black’s systems began to turn on Haggar released another wave of terrible magic. Shiro actually screamed this time as the electricity wrapped around his whole body. 

Black went dark in the back of his mind- a void where her presence once was. 

Shiro willed the screen to stay lit, hoping against hope that Haggar would come no closer. To his relief, he could still see her, stopping just feet before Black’s enormous muzzle. 

For a moment, there was nothing. They stared at each other silently. Haggar tilted her head, her long white hair falling over her face. Her bulbous yellow eyes watched him, unblinking. 

Even though he was not physically in her presence, Shiro was terrified. He felt rooted to his seat, unable to move with the witch’s gaze upon him. 

“Champion,” Haggar’s voice was not one that Shiro missed. “How I have  _ longed  _ to see you.” 

Shiro had forgotten what fear felt like after he’d escaped the Galra captivation. But sitting here, with Haggar’s gaze upon him, it came flooding back full force. 

His vision went blurry, his breathing came out shallow and fast. The cockpit was so much smaller than it was just a second ago. 

And all he could see - all he could feel - was the weight of Haggar’s gaze upon him. 

“Come,” Haggar hissed. “Let us dance once more. I want to see how my Champion has  _ grown.”  _

 

Hunk should have figured things were going horribly wrong the moment they’d heard the explosion. His own eardrums had been near ruptured from the force as it rocked the whole planet to its core. Following that, Lance had freaked out, screamed Shiro’s name and their line went dark. 

Allura had insisted they follow the plan and they did, weaving around Galra ships. Hunk was very blessed to have Yellow’s thick armor as the shots he took would have been far worse if they had hit Red or Blue. 

He ripped apart another fighter jet with Yellow’s maw and let it fall to the ground in a sparking, crushed mess. Blue darted past to freeze a few ships solid and let them plummet. Pidge let out a war cry as she turned an entire ship into a tangled mess of vines and leaves. 

“Do you guys think-” Hunk tried to say, but Pidge cut across him. 

“Hunk, on your six!” 

“Huh?” Hunk heeded her advice and dove, barely missing a fighter jet that came blasting past. It had nearly ran into Yellow’s flank and would have dealt devastating damage at the expense of a ship. Hunk had time to wonder if the Galra were even aware of kamikaze tactics before the ship came by again. 

He made a mad swerve to avoid it and realized that this ship was  _ different  _ than the others. The purple in it was darker, the armor thicker. It looked like something to piloted by a Commander, not a mere sentry. 

“What  _ is  _ that?” He asked. 

“It is a Galra royal fighter jet,” Allura said grimly. “And...I have a suspicion of who is in the cockpit.” 

She dove as the plane went for her instead, blasting at Blue with a powerful set of blasters. Allura duck and wove to avoid them, but one caught her flank. She let out a sharp cry as Blue went rolling off sideways. 

“Allura!” Pidge shouted. 

“I’m alright!” Allura said. She gritted her teeth, tightening her grip on the controls. “We must focus all of our fire onto that ship!” 

She glared over at the ship circling them from above. The pilot commanding it was of considerable skill. They clearly knew what they were doing. 

And Allura already had an idea of who was sitting behind the controls. 

She shot at it, but it weaved out of the way, almost as if it was toying with her. Showing off that no matter what she threw at it, they could dodge with ease. 

A second later, a transmission appeared on her screen. Smirking, face unblemished, and sitting in a cockpit in all of his white-haired glory was Lotor. 

“Greetings, Paladins!” He said grandly. “Though...not all of you are true Paladins, are you?” 

Allura flinched. Blue reached out to brush against her quintessence reassuringly. 

“It is of no consequence,” Lotor said. “We have all of you exactly where we want you. And...by the end of the day, Voltron will be no more. The Lions will be ours. And your precious Red Paladin - that wonderful half-breed who our Witch is just so captivated by - will be ours once again.” 

“ _ Never!”  _ Allura snarled. 

Lotor clicked his tongue. “Never say never, Princess. After all...we’ve gotten him once. It is not hard to get him once more. In fact...I would hurry up. Who knows how much time he’s got left?” 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Pidge demanded. 

“Giving all the answers ruins the fun!” Lotor practically sang. 

“This isn’t a game!” Pidge snarled. 

“That’s just what people say when they don’t know how to play,” Lotor said. Another rain of bullets came shooting toward them. Allura jerked to the right and Blue followed her silent command. They ducked and weaved through the storm, lasers grazing the side of Blue’s armor. Lotor laughed, high and cruel from his comfortable spot in the cockpit. “Tick tock, tick tock, Paladins! Your friends don’t have much time left.” 

He smirked and made a show of inclining his head to the base. 

Allura thought of Shiro and Lance, fighting a battle all of their own over there. Of Keith, alone on the planet and likely facing down Laynek. 

She gritted her teeth. 

Fury burned in her veins. 

She lost her family once.

Never again. 

With a roar of pure rage, she shot up to engage Lotor. 

 

Keith had hoped to get farther than they did. 

Matt was slow, though, disoriented and clearly pained by his bad leg. Blood gushed down his front from his broken nose and he cradled his fingers close to his chest. Keith hadn’t looked at them for very long, but he knew that there would be no repairing them properly. The skin was discolored and a very violent shade of purple and his thumb hung limp and useless in a way it clearly wasn’t supposed to. 

Mira was in much the same state. Keith had assumed that the worst of her injuries was her black eye, but he’d been sorely mistaken. As soon as they got out of the basement and into an area with better lighting, Keith saw that patches of her skin had been burnt away. Angry red splotches on her skin oozed blue blood. She was covered in soot and her fur was burnt away. 

The two of them were half-supporting each other as they walked and Keith felt a bit awkward that he wasn’t helping as he jogged ahead and threw his knife at any approaching sentries. 

“How are you holding up?” Keith whispered back at him as they ducked inside a reasonably safe alcove. They were flanked on either side by gas canisters, which were a surprisingly effective way to hide them. 

“Could be better,” Matt muttered. He hissed as he moved his fingers. 

“We’re almost out,” Keith said. He could see the front doors (or rather, what was left of them) from where they were hidden. “Do you need a break?” 

He really didn’t want to stop until they were safe and huddled in Keith’s pod, but at the miserable nods sent his way, he didn’t have the heart to persist. He fell silent and tightened his already crushing grip on his bayard. 

He desperately prayed that Laynek was still downed in the cell they had left him in. That Keith could get his two friends to safety before going back to face him in battle. 

It appeared, though, that luck was not on Keith’s side today. 

There was a mighty roar from down the hallway. Matt’s eyes widened in pure fear. Mira stiffened. Keith had to clench his jaw to keep himself from squeaking. 

The wall to their left exploded. Keith could hear crackling electricity. 

Matt raised his widened eyes to Keith’s. The panic Keith felt was mirrored in them. He tried to slow his breathing, focus on something, but Laynek’s footsteps were loud. They kept getting closer.

_ Think, think, think!  _

They’d be found if they continued crouching here. Keith didn’t want to be found cowering like a child before Laynek. He wanted to meet him head-on, even if the thought of those lips stitched together only by thin strips of skin terrified him. 

Though, one thing was certain. Matt and Mira needed to run. Above all, they had to get out. They had already lost Uua. They would lose no more. 

Keith would be a distraction. He could attract Laynek’s attention for as long as it was needed until he saw an opening to escape after them. Or, maybe, the time for the final showdown was close at hand. Either way, Keith would not allow Matt and Mira to become casualties in this horrible war.  _ Never.  _

_ Go,  _ he mouthed to them, jerking his head roughly to the door. He saw Matt’s already wide eyes grow even large and shake his head, but he was already moving. 

He straightened up and stepped carefully out of their hiding spots. At the sound of his footsteps, Laynek whirled around, snarling. 

Blood dripped from the hole Keith and dug into his forehead. He was holding a massive sword at his side, crackling with electricity. Keith eyed it warily, swallowing his nerves. 

“My Prisoner…” Laynek snarled. 

“I am  _ not  _ your prisoner,” Keith said, hoping his voice was stronger than he felt. 

“Ah yes...you believe you are more,” Laynek said coldly. “And yet, you are not. You mean nothing. And I will enjoy tearing you limb from limb, no matter what plans the Witch and the half-breed  _ Prince  _ have for you.” He paused and glanced around him. “Where did your disgusting  _ friends  _ run off to? Did they abandon you?” 

Keith clenched his free fist to hide how badly it was trembling. He tried to mentally push Matt and Mira to move, but they had not. 

“Somewhere safe,” he said, hoping that they got the cue and ran. But they didn’t. 

“Then none can interfere with your murder,” Laynek said. A smirk curled over his lips; more blood dripped off his chin. 

Keith swallowed down his fear, his apprehension,  _ everything  _ as he took in Laynek’s stance. He shut his eyes for a brief moment, gathering his resolve, before meeting the Galra’s gaze. He would not back down. Not now. Not ever again. 

“Bring it on,” he said. 

Laynek did, breaking into a run. Every footstep made the ground beneath Keith’s feet tremble. He raised his throwing knife despite knowing it was a poor substitute for his broadsword and tensed, readying himself for Laynek’s first blow. 

As the sword came swinging for Keith’s head, he ducked and rolled, pulling himself up onto his feet. He threw his knife but Laynek caught it and tossed it aside. 

“I will not fall for the same trick twice,” he snarled, gripping his sword in both hands. He let it drag across the ground, scraping loudly against the stone. Keith winced and rose to his feet. He sprinted around Laynek, ducking as he swung his sword wildly. Electricity scraped over the top of his helmet, cuffing it. It flew off his head and cracked against the wall. 

Keith dropped into a skid to pick up his fallen knife and cursed silently at it’s length. He needed his broadsword and he needed it  _ now.  _

His bayard began to glow at his behest and the sword began to take shape, but as soon as it did Keith remembered Lotor’s glowing yellow eyes and smirk and it faltered. Keith cursed under his breath. 

Laynek sneered over at him and approached once more. Keith let his bayard dissolve from his hand in a flash of light and instead reached behind him for his knife. In his hand, it shimmered and grew until it lay next to his ankle. Silently thanking the Blade of Mamora for teaching him how to unlock that ability, he sprinted at Laynek, aiming for his legs as touching swords would be a death wish. 

“Interesting,” Laynek side-stepped and kicked Keith so hard he lost his footing and tumbled sideways. “A half-breed bearing a blade of the traitorous Galra. I should have known a half-breed could sink to lower depths then by simply  _ existing.”  _

Rolling and coughing blood out of his lungs, Keith tried not to let the comment sting. He propped himself up on his arms and glared, sincerely grateful for the armor that had absorbed most of the blow. He staggered to his feet and pointed his Marmora blade in between Laynek’s eyes. 

Unimpressed, Laynek charged. Keith followed suit, sliding to his knees and locking his sword on Laynek’s ankle. He crashed unceremoniously to the ground and Keith whirled around to get a slice in, but found his strike blocked by Laynek’s sword. 

He screamed, electricity sparking up the sword’s handle and into his bloodstream. The pain was far more familiar than what he was comfortable with. He staggered away, coughing and twitching. 

He tried to put space between them, give himself time to recuperate after the unexpected electricity, but Laynek’s recovery time was far quicker than Keith had given him credit for. He was on his feet in seconds and swinging his sword. Keith ducked, wishing dearly that he had something else to defend himself. 

He  _ needed  _ his bayard. Not the throwing knife, either. The  _ broadsword.  _ It would give him a desperately needed edge in a fight he was starting to lose. 

Activating the shield on his armor, Keith gritted his teeth as electricity from Laynek’s sword danced across the top. He reached out and slammed the butt-end of his Marmora blade into Laynek’s nose. He bellowed, more annoyed than anything, as he reached out to cup the injury. Keith staggered to his feet, panting.

He glanced over at Mira and Matt’s hiding spot. They were still there, transfixed and open-mouthed. He willed for them to go again, and raised his shield once more to block Laynek’s next strike. The force of it made his arms tremble and he grunted, pressing himself down to one knee. 

“G-Go!” He managed to shout through gritted teeth. A moment later the shield shattered into a million tiny particles that vanished into thin air. He collapsed onto all fours, panting heavily. Above him, Laynek raised his sword. 

“Pathetic,” he sneered. “So ends my Prisoner who believed he was more than what he wasn’t.” 

Keith shut his eyes. 

Laynek was wrong. He was  _ wrong.  _

Keith was something. He was more than the label Haggar, Lotor, and Laynek had given him. He meant so much more then they’d tried to make him believe. 

Once again, Keith focused his attention onto his bayard. It materialized in his free hand (once again, Keith blessed the fact that he was ambidextrous) and Keith forced himself to focus. 

It began to glow. The broadsword ever so slowly came into shape. With it, those torturous memories of his duel with Lotor. Keith gritted his teeth and pushed them down, trying to focus. He refused to lose. Not to Laynek, not to his situation, not even to his memories. He wasn’t going to take all of this lying down. He was going to  _ win.  _

So, while Laynek’s sword came down towards him, Keith’s broadsword finally burst into existence. 

Keith had never been so glad to hold such a familiar weapon. He wasted no time in bursting into action, throwing his whole body forward with a roar. Aiming for a chink in Laynek’s armor, he dug the broadsword into one of Laynek’s knees. 

The Galra roared in pain, abandoning course and instead reaching for Keith’s hair with his hands. He grabbed it and pulled, yanking him up. Keith kept all his weight on his sword and his free hand clenched around his knife as he was lifted to stare at Laynek. He smirked through the pain. 

“Fuck you,” he snarled. 

Laynek bellowed and threw Keith. His bayard came loose from his knee and Laynek fell onto his one remaining good one. He fixed Keith with a furious glare, purple blood gushing from between his armor. Keith rose to his feet and squared his shoulders. 

“You…will be  _ nothing,”  _ Laynek snarled. “And if I shall die here, you will die with me.” 

He hefted his sword and aimed it not at Keith, but at one of the gas canisters. Keith’s stomach bottomed out. He turned toward Matt and Mira, panic in his eyes. 

“ _ Run!”  _

Matt and Mira began to move, but it was too slow. Laynek threw his sword with deadly accuracy. It whistled through the air and embedded itself into the tank. 

Within seconds, it began to whistle. Distant alarms began to wail somewhere else on the base. Keith began running for Matt and Mira, reaching out to pull them away. 

He watched the tank bulge outwards, trying to contain an unstoppable force. Keith grabbed Matt’s shoulder, dragging him back, grasping desperately for Mira’s hand. 

The tank exploded outwards. Keith opened his mouth to scream as it rocked the very foundation of the buildings. He wanted to push Matt and Mira behind him, spare their lives so they at least could live, but he found he could not move. 

Because Mira had already done it. 

She opened her arms wide and in the split second Keith had before the world turned to fire, she turned to smile at them. 

The second tank exploded. Keith felt his body fly backward with the force of it. 

He saw orange. He saw Matt tumble back with him. 

He saw white fur ablaze. 

And then everything went black. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I sorry for the angst and the cliffhanger? Not at all. Is Mira dead? I'll never tell. 
> 
> I'm just super excited as we're reaching the final act in the last part of this story! Truly, this has been an adventure to the very end and I'm so glad I was able to share this with all of you. But, I'll save all of the sappy thank you's for the final chapter. 
> 
> Anyways, Happy Easter, everyone! I hope you guys have a wonderful time, and good luck those of you who have to suffer through a night with your families. I'm rooting for you! 
> 
> Next chapter the Paladins face off against their individual adversaries. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading! I'll see you all next Saturday! <3 
> 
> Come scream at me on my [tumblr!](https://chocolatechip-master.tumblr.com/)


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allura, Hunk, and Pidge try to hold their own against Lotor, but are woefully outskilled. After a sacrifice has been made, Keith pledges revenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't beta-read, so all mistakes are on me. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Allura grunted as another blast slammed into the cockpit. Lotor’s aim was irritatingly impeccable, and he was far too fast to be able to land a proper shot on. She’d tried freezing him in place more than once, but he practically danced around her every attack. 

“Come!” He kept calling through the transmission. “Show me what you are made of! Or is this all three Voltron Paladins are capable of?” 

“God I can’t-” Pidge swerved madly to avoid a deadly shot. “I can’t get a clear angle on him!” 

“He’s too fast!” Hunk echoed. “I can’t keep up with him, either!” 

Allura kept her mouth shut, focusing instead on watching Lotor’s patterns. He was figure-eighting high above them in a clear taunt. If she tried, Allura could imagine him smirking down them. 

Hunk fired a fruitless laser over at Lotor. It missed terribly, parting the clouds in the sky around them. Hunk sighed. 

“Worth a shot,” he muttered. 

“What were you even trying to  _ do?”  _ Pidge demanded. 

“I thought I had a prediction down,” Hunk replied, circling around to try and get another angle on a second attempt. “Like his movements and stuff. Turns out, he’s unpredictable and changes the way he’s flying super subtly so we can’t tell.” 

“Of course,” Pidge grumbled. 

“Do not lose heart, Paladins,” Allura said. “We can defeat him. We just...need to focus.” She narrowed her eyes up at Lotor’s taunting ship. He’d stopped dead and had gone suspiciously silent. No one moved, for fear of starting up the deadly game of cat and mouse once again. 

Nobody noticed the subtle charge of one of the cannons, angling itself towards Pidge. No one except Allura. 

“Pidge!” Allura cried. She tossed herself forward, ramming Blue into Green. The lion went spinning away. 

“Hey-!” Pidge shouted. A pause, where she seemed to gather the true gravity of the situation, went by. Then- “ _ Allura!”  _

A split second later, the blast hit Blue dead on. 

Alarms began to ring in the cockpit as Blue began to lose altitude. She plummeted to the ground, trailing smoke behind her. One by one, every single system began to shut off. 

The ground came hurtling towards them. Allura tried desperately to keep Blue afloat, but her efforts were in vain. Blue crashed into the rainforest with a deafening crash. Allura’s head flew forward, smashing against the console. 

Then everything went dark. 

 

Keith’s ears were ringing. 

Carefully, he peeled his eyes open. His vision was blurry and unfocused and he was forced to blink several times in rapid succession to clear it. When everything finally became semi-clear...Keith did not like the picture he saw. 

What remained of the base was little more than rubble now. Boulders lay flat on the shattered concrete, cracks splicing a few of them right down the middle. The air was hazy with smoke and debris; everything oddly tranquil and quiet after the chaos of a few minutes before. Or maybe a few hours. Keith really had no idea how long he’d been out. 

He realized one of his eyes was tinged an odd shade of red. He wiped at it and it came away covered in dark blood. His stomach rolled. 

He twisted awkwardly, gasping in pain as something in his abdomen  _ yanked  _ and propped himself up on his arms. His armor had been completely shredded on one side. The scars all up and down his arms were on full display. The glove on his other hand had been burnt to a crisp, leaving soot stained on Keith’s prosthetic fingers. 

He shut his eyes and shuddered. 

And then became acutely aware of  _ sobbing. _

Lifting his head, Keith squinted through the haze. He could make out a distant figure; shoulders jerking with every incredible sob. 

“Matt?” Keith murmured, but his voice didn’t carry. Slowly, Keith lifted himself painfully to his feet. He reached out to grasp his arm firmly as he walked, blood rolling over his metal fingers from a cut. Scarlet dripped off his chin and every step jolted the wound in his abdomen. Carefully, he made his way over to Matt. 

He reached out to brush his hand against Matt’s shoulder but stopped short. 

Matt was cradling a body.

Keith recognized it instantly. 

White fur, blackened and burnt away. Burnt skin with blue blood trickling out to stain her skin. 

It was Mira. 

And her head was hanging at an impossible angle. 

Keith’s legs gave out from underneath him. He collapsed behind Matt, pressing his forehead into the other’s back so he didn’t have to look anymore. He felt the weight of Matt’s sobs, every single one made his whole body jerk horribly. He was murmuring incoherently between sobs - desperate pleas for Mira to open her eyes, to say something,  _ anything. _ But Keith knew - and so did Matt, deep down - that she wouldn’t. She’d never say anything ever again. 

Keith was flooded by an unimaginable agony. A feeling of pure loss, that permeated his whole body and made him sick to his stomach. Never again would he hear Mira mispronounce her name. Never again would he listen to her mother-hen hissing as she protected those she held dear. Though, he knew, what he was going through was nothing compared to Matt. 

He’d lost his whole team in less than a week. First Uua, who’d been fun-loving and tried to bring light to those he knew. Then Mira, who had protective and loving in a way only she was. 

A sob clenched through Keith’s lips. Tears washed the blood from his eyes. They were pink when they dripped onto the concrete beneath him. He tried to bite back his sobs, for Matt’s sake, but he failed. 

“Mira-” Matt blubbered. “Mira  _ please.”  _

Mira did not respond. 

She never would. 

Keith raised his head to look at Mira one last time. Despite the terrible angle of her neck, her eyes were closed. She looked oddly at peace, her expression relaxed. 

She was still smiling. 

A sharp jab pierced Keith’s chest. The agony he’d been feeling doubled ten-fold. She’d been okay with dying. She’d been okay for sacrificing her life for theirs.

Keith had no idea how Uua had died, but judging by the terrible reaction from the boy in front of him...he’d probably gone out much the same way. 

“Why?” Matt had never sounded so  _ heartbroken.  _ “Why them? What did they deserve?! Mira...Uua...they-” he was unable to finish his sentence. Instead, he doubled over Mira’s body and let out a gut-wrenching  _ wail.  _ It rang in the air, echoing for what felt like miles. Keith had never heard anything so horrible before. This sadness - it was real, it was  _ raw.  _ And he felt every single heartbreaking moment of it. 

Matt continued screaming well after the first one had died off. He sobbed loudly, uncaring of who heard. After everything he’d seen and endured over the past day, he deserved to mourn. He deserved to  _ hurt like hell  _ right now. 

Keith shut his eyes, and let him. 

For a while, they just sat there. In dual grief, in mourning for the friends that had barely gotten the chance to live. They hadn’t even survived to see Voltron take back the universe. They’d died trying to make it a reality.

Then, after Matt’s loud crying had subdued into horrible jerks of his shoulders once again, Keith tentatively broke the ice. 

“Matt-” he tried to say, but there was a shuffling from behind them. Both of them froze, turning around to stare. 

With a mighty roar, Laynek threw the boulder imprisoning him off. It went flying into another and they both crumbled into dust. He leveled a seething glare on Keith and Matt, his breaths heavy and labored. 

Laynek was in terrible shape. Like Keith, his armor had been practically stripped away from the explosion. His skin was peppered in painful-looking burns. His enormous sword was missing and his knee was oozing copious amounts of blood. 

And looking upon him, Keith had never felt so  _ angry.  _

Laynek should have died. Not Mira. Not Uua. Not anyone else. He should have died the moment Matt drove his staff into his neck. He should have died the moment the boulder fell on top of his body.  He  _ should have been dead.  _ A thousand times over. 

_ “You,”  _ Keith seethed. He struggled to stand, determined to make this fight the last. Laynek would not walk out of the debris alive. This was long-overdue justice and Keith, the former prisoner Laynek had hurt the most, was due to be judge, jury, and executor. 

Matt watched, as Keith rose to his feet. His broken fingers swiped for him, maybe to stop him or pull himself to his feet, Keith wasn’t sure. He instead chose to set his sight on Laynek. 

Summoning his bayard, Keith no longer felt afraid when looking at Laynek. No longer was he a torturer, a Galra with no feeling and only cruelty in his veins, he was a petty murderer. A piece of scum that deserved the worst fate possible. Keith was more than happy to deliver retribution.

His broadsword appeared in his hand, but his grip was tight. Laynek’s gaze flickered through it and he bared his teeth. 

“You cannot kill me with that,” he snarled. 

“I can,” Keith was already eyeing a spot in his neck where the armor had withered away. “And I will.” He charged, but his footing was off. He swung his sword, but it was lackluster due to his injuries. Laynek’s hand lashed out to grab it by the blade. He grabbed Keith by the throat and threw him to the ground. The impact knocked the wind of Keith. He gasped loudly. 

Giving himself no time to recover, Keith rolled widely as Laynek’s foot came down where his head just was. Pivoting on his heel as he spun to his feet, Keith slammed the butt of his broadsword into Laynek’s neck. He roared and turned again, reaching for the scruff of Keith’s neck. He ducked and swung his blade up. It cut a gash into Laynek’s exposed chest and abdomen. He roared and kicked Keith hard in the chest. Stumbling backward, Keith sucked in a deep breath, trying to regain his footing. But Layenk was already there. 

He grabbed Keith by what remained of the collar of his armor and lifted him. Keith winced, inhaling sharply as his abdomen jostled strangely. His broadsword clattered to the ground. Laynek stared at him, a maniac hatred birthing in his eyes. His teeth were bared in an insane look of pure rage as he trembled. 

“I should have killed you the moment I wrapped my hands around your neck,” Laynek snarled. “It would have saved me so much trouble. But I didn’t. And now, you have gotten so lucky as to evade death time and time again. No more. This is where it ends, Red Paladin of Voltron. It is time to meet your maker.” 

Keith felt a rush of defiance. At Laynek’s words. No longer did he view Keith as a petty prisoner. He now understood that Keith had defiance and a protective drive that exceeded that of even the sun. 

And now, it was time for Laynek to truly understand the extent of that. 

“Paladin,” Keith managed to smirk. One eye was fused just from the blood seeping over it. “I like the sound of that.” 

All at once, there was an explosion of presence in the back of his mind. A plethora of emotion - love, fear, concern,  _ pride  _ \- and the haze surrounding them exploded into action. 

Red burst through the dust like a glorious ray of sun. She opened her maw and  _ roared  _ and the sound was the most beautiful thing Keith had ever heard. She landed with a thud that made the concrete shatter under her powerful claws. Laynek released Keith, letting him drop to the ground with a thud. 

“No-” Laynek gasped and for the first time, Keith saw something flicker in his gaze. 

It was fear. 

Grabbing his fallen broadsword, Keith let go of all his hesitation and turned. With a war cry that Red echoed with a mighty roar, he thrust the sword up. 

It pierced Laynek’s flesh, from his neck up. Keith kept pushing, letting purple blood splatter all over his ruined armor, over his face and hands, until the sword burst out of the back of Laynek’s head. A disgusting  _ squelch  _ noise followed it. 

Laynek’s gaze flickered to Keith’s arm. For a moment, he took in the scars spiraling all up the flesh and he opened his mouth. Then, his eyes rolled up in the back of his head and he fell. The sword left his flesh with a horrible squish, and Laynek hit the ground. Blood splattered all over the concrete. 

Laynek did not move again. 

Keith flicked his sword, letting Laynek’s blood speckle the ground at his feet. He felt oddly accomplished, having killed a demon that had plagued the universe for so long. He felt no remorse. Laynek had deserved a fate no less. 

Keith looked up at Red, who was standing up proud. He felt a rush of pride and relief and she lowered her jaw for him to climb into. Keith hesitated, glancing over at Matt, who still held Mira to his body. His mouth was gaped open in shock. 

Smiling a little, Keith jerked his head into the direction of the cockpit. Matt obeyed at once, gathering Mira’s body as best he could in his arms and staggering toward Red. Keith followed after one last glare at Laynek’s drowned body. 

Retribution had been delivered. Now, it was time to return to the fight. 

Lance was waiting when Keith entered the cockpit. They stared at each other for a full-blown minute, before Lance shook his head and offered Keith the seat. 

Keith shook his head. “You stay there.” 

“You sure?” Lance raised an eyebrow. 

“Yeah,” Keith said confidently. He believed in Lance. “Let’s go find the others. I’ve got a feeling they’re going to need our help.” 

Lance nodded and sat back down. With his hands on the controls, he yanked hard and Red lifted her head, roaring in defiance. 

And they took off, leaving Laynek’s downed body on the concrete below. 

The ghost of his final moments of fear was still etched upon his face. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, it's the end of Laynek! But, unfortunately, that's still not the end of it. Shiro's still dealing with Haggar, and the fight with Lotor clearly isn't going well. 
> 
> And I know I wanted everyone to be there for the final fight with Laynek, but this felt so much more *satisfying*. I prefer this ending for him much better than the other one I had (kind-of) planned for him. Honestly, I didn't have a solid plan for how I wanted him to die, except that I wanted Red to show up and be a BAMF. So, at least that's there! :D 
> 
> And poor Matt, honestly. He's lost his whole team and he deserved that scene there to just cry. Mira's gone, Uua's gone, and he's the only one left. The survivor's guilt is gonna be horrible for that poor guy. I honestly feel him - I loved writing Mira so much! But, I knew, from the moment I wanted her dead all the way back in chapter fourteen, she wasn't going to make it through the story. Neither of them were. So it hurts, but I think it had to be done D: 
> 
> Sorry about the length, too, by the way. I've got a lot of things going on tonight so I wanted to crank out a chapter just to let you guys read what I have in store. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Leave a comment or something if you did, I'd love to hear your thoughts on Laynek's death! 
> 
> I'll see you next Saturday! <3


	38. Chapter 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith is willing to do anything for Shiro. Little does he know, that extends both ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't beta-read, so all mistakes are on me. 
> 
> Enjoy!

“Where are the others?” Keith couldn’t keep the sense of urgency out of his voice. He knew from the powerful purrs sending tingles up his spine that Red had broken away from what was planned to come help him. But where did that leave everyone else? Were they sticking to the original plan or had things changed once they’d learned that Keith had left. 

“Pidge, Hunk, and Allura are keeping the Galra busy,” Lance said. “Shiro-” 

“Wait,” Keith interrupted. “Wasn’t Hunk supposed to be with Shiro and aid in evacuations?” 

“Yeah, well that was before you decided to go on a rescue mission of your own,” Lance said, glancing at Keith. “And apparently wreck Shiro’s spare set of armor.” He didn’t even bother to hide his exasperation. Keith winced. 

“Then where is Shiro now?” He asked. This time, he failed at hiding the panic in his voice. He’d never be able to forgive himself if something happened to Shiro. 

The way Lance stiffened and his grip around the controls tightened did not bode well in Keith’s stomach. He asked again, with a bit more urgency in his tone. 

“He was following me but-” Lance swallowed thickly. “His comms suddenly cut out. I-I thought it was because of the interference because of the debris but…”

“We have to find Shiro,” Keith’s already injured abdomen flared with a new agony when he leaned partially over the seat to stare at Lance. He watched Lance’s eyes wander over his face. He must have looked like a wreck - covered in blood, most of which wasn’t his own, and wearing ruined armor. But that didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except making sure his family was okay.

Lance nodded, but it was slow. He turned his attention back to the task at hand, looking out over the smoking remains of Zaaf. 

“I’ll head to where I lost connection with Shiro,” he said. “Whatever’s over there...are you sure you’re ready for it?” 

Keith bit his lip. He hadn’t been prepared to take on Laynek and because of that Matt’s entire hand was broken and Mira and Uua were dead. He couldn’t make that same mistake. If he did, someone else was going to die and it was his fault. It wasn’t a matter of ‘if’ he was ready. He  _ had  _ to be ready. There was no other alternative. 

He nodded stiffly. Lance glanced at him but did not argue. Both of them had no choice but to believe Keith could face whatever demon was next for the sake of their family. 

Lance circled back around the ruins of the rebel base. He made a beeline to where Keith had left his pod and Keith began to search. He tried reaching out to the minuscule connection he still had with Black but received no answer. Her presence had all but vanished. Keith’s stomach churned. 

After a few agonizing seconds, Lance finally spoke.

“There!” 

He pointed and Keith followed the direction until he spotted a black heap on the ground. A tiny speck was moving (practically  _ floating) _ closer to it. 

Keith was never one for religion, but in that moment, he prayed to every God he’d ever heard of that what he was looking at wasn’t real. That they were misinterpreting a scene and were only viewing the out of context bits. But the longer he stared, the more real it became. And the more the silhouette began to look increasingly like Haggar. The more the black heap on the ground looked familiar. 

“Red,” Keith’s voice sounded foreign to his own ears. Lance glanced up curiously. “ _ Save him.”  _

His lion roared in response and dipped into a nosedive. Keith heard Matt yelp from the cargo hold as they plummeted. He grabbed onto the seat with his prosthetic, fingers digging into the plush seat. 

Haggar saw them coming. In a flash of smoke, she vanished and reappeared several feet away. It put enough distance between her and Black that it eased Keith’s nerves a little, but it did nothing to stop the anxiety caving in on his chest. 

Because as soon as he looked at Haggar, he  _ froze.  _

His spine stiffened as he stared at the tip of her hood, pulled low over her eyes to obscure them. Suddenly, Keith was back on that table with the druids lurking over him, strapping him down, lulling him to sleep-

In a burst of anger, Red chased away the memories and wrapped herself around Keith’s battered quintessence to protect it. Keith sucked in a deep breath and tried looking again. It wasn’t any better than the first time, but at the very least Red managed to protect him from his own memories this time.

The witch opened her mouth and every sense in Keith’s entire body screamed at him to  _ run.  _

“The Red Lion,” Haggar said thoughtfully and her voice carried much farther than it should have. Then, she lifted her head and her yellow eyes  _ gleamed.  _ Her mouth twisted in a wretched imitation of a smile. “ _ Keith.”  _

Red’s haunches rose and Lance’s shoulders went stiff. He glanced back at Keith once as if to portray an unspoken message but Keith wasn’t watching. He was too busy staring at Haggar’s unblinking yellow eyes. The same ones that leered above him while he writhed and screamed, liquid fire burning in his veins. 

“Don’t worry,” this time, it was Lance’s voice that brought Keith back from the brink. He tore his gaze from Haggar’s to look at him. “I -  _ we  _ \- won’t let her touch you.” 

Keith was suddenly very aware of what Lance’s unspoken words were as Red roared. On Lance’s command, they shot into battle. 

Haggar was ready. An arc of electricity shot towards them in which Red was barely able to roll out of the way. In retaliation, Lance shot a burst of fire over in her direction, but Haggar merely melted into a puff of smoke only to reappear. She was closer to Black now. 

“My apologies, Keith,” she said and the way she said his name made Keith whimper. “But I have a Champion to dance with. You and I will have  _ plenty  _ of time to reunite once I defeat Voltron.”

She turned back to Black. Keith could only watch as she placed her palm on Black’s maw. The body convulsed and spasmed sickeningly. Black’s paws flailed, but she didn’t fight back. Instead, she did nothing. Did not lift a finger to protect herself or her paladin. 

_ What did Haggar do?  _

Keith didn’t allow himself any time to come up with an answer. Not as Black’s jaw creaked open and the last line of defense between the witch and Shiro had been torn away. It was just like back then with Laynek. Matt and Mira had been in danger and Keith had acted in turn to protect them. Except this time, it was more personal. This time, his brother was in danger. 

Without thinking, Keith reached for one of the consoles on his right. Lance opened his mouth to ask what Keith was doing, but his fist was already slamming down hard on the eject command he’d pulled up. There was a rush of air from around him and Keith fell as Red’s body lurched forward to give him a bit more leverage. He tucked and rolled and used his momentum to his advantage to come up running. Haggar was already one step inside of the runway. Any farther and she’d be well on her way to hurting Shiro. 

Keith couldn’t allow that to happen. 

Ignoring every bone in his body that begged him to stop and rest for just a moment, he plowed forward. He summoned his bayard in his prosthetic hand and let it change shape into his throwing knife. Reeling his arm back expertly, he threw it as hard as he could. It spun in neat circles towards Haggar, and at the last minute, she stepped aside to avoid the knife that would have impaled the back of her head. It clattered to the ground, sliding into a little crevice inside of Black’s maw, but it was enough to distract her. 

As she stared at his throwing knife, Keith lifted his Marmora knife and let it shimmer under his hands and take form. With a roar, he swung at her, intending to cut her right in half. But Haggar’s eyes flickered to him instantly and her form flickered before vanishing and reappearing several feet away. Keith spun on his heel to stare at her, his chest heaving with every strangled pant. 

“It appears I will have less time to play with you then I thought,” Haggar hissed. Her right arm was wreathed in crackling electricity. “You have become an annoyance and annoyances must be dealt with.” She lifted her hand. “A pity. I would have loved to experiment on your body while it was still alive. A live specimen gives me so much more than a dead one. But if I must use a dead half-breed’s body...so be it.” 

And she lunged at Keith.

Shiro was not a weak man. He’d been through a year of captivity, endured a month inside the Black Lion’s consciousness, and did his best to keep his team, and himself, together while his little brother was gone. 

But right now? Standing before the witch that had taken everything from him? He couldn’t move. He was paralyzed with fear as she made her way towards Black.

When Red - and subsequently Lance - had appeared, Shiro had never felt more relieved. Things would be okay, he thought. They’d be able to get out of this. So he’d tried again to activate his lion, pleading through sheer will alone for her to wake up. Her presence had begun to stir when Haggar had returned with a vengeance. Another blast of magic hit Shiro full force, breaking his concentration. Black and convulsed - he had screamed - and then everything had gone dark in the cockpit once again. 

He heard a roar of defiance that wasn’t his own and then suddenly Keith was there behind Haggar, swinging his sword from the Blade of Marmora. 

Shiro had never been more terrified and relieved to see Keith in his life. On the one hand, Keith was alive. He wasn’t  _ okay,  _ maybe (the purple and red blood splattered all over his ruined armor that Shiro was pretty sure was his attested to the opposite) but he was still fighting. He was fighting for  _ Shiro.  _ And that was what scared Shiro so much. Keith was willing to fight tooth and nail for Shiro. Ever since they were at the Garrison, Keith had been quick to defend Shiro and even up in space, he hadn’t hesitated to put his life on the line. 

But he shouldn’t have been doing that now. Not against Haggar. Not against the witch that had taken both of their arms. Not against a demon that Keith wasn’t ready to face yet. 

Shiro planted both of his palms against his chair and pushed upwards, trying to force his aching body to stand. He was dizzy and unsteady, but at the very least he could stand. So, with the world spinning around him, Shiro put his hand on the back of his chair and forced himself forward. 

As soon as he left the support of his chair and took a few unsteady steps toward the exit, he collapsed. He cried out, his broken helmet clattering off his head and bouncing away into the darkness of the cockpit. He reached out weakly to grab it, but he couldn’t see. He heard Keith scream in pain and forced himself to move, to bite back the dizziness. 

Scraping his fingers against the floor, Shiro scrambled for purchase to pull himself to his feet. He reached out, curling his grip tightly around something hard and pulled himself to his feet. He used the wall to help him stand, swallowing back a wave of nausea. 

Lance needed him. Keith needed him. Haggar could not be allowed to do as she pleased to his family anymore. 

He forced himself to move. He went step by step, praying that Keith could hold his own against the witch for just a moment longer. He’d be there soon. He wasn’t sure what he could do against his greatest fear, but it had to be something. He couldn’t allow himself to stand aside and do nothing while the world 

“Keith-” Shiro gasped between clenched teeth. “Lance. H-Hang on.  _ Please.”  _

Another step. Shiro could smell sulfur and hear the sounds of battle. The world was a little brighter. 

He lifted his head to see out the entrance and watched Keith fly past and hit the ground painfully in front of him. His heart skipped a beat. 

Haggar began to advance toward Keith. Her whole hand was wreathed in electricity and she looked completely unharmed. Keith, on the other hand, looked in even worse shape than he used to be. His right arm - scars on full display - was now near covered in crimson. He was panting heavily, favoring one leg over the other. Blood cascaded over one of his eyes and dripped off his chin. 

“Here is where it ends,” Haggar sneered, approaching Keith. Neither of them had noticed Shiro yet. “Your corpse will make a wonderful specimen.” 

Keith bared his teeth up at her and did not back down. Haggar began to move, lifting her arm to plunge it into Keith’s stomach. 

For Shiro, time seemed to slow to a crawl. The scene unfolding before him couldn’t be real. This had to be fake. But it was and no matter what, Shiro could not allow this to continue. He’d take a bullet for Keith. Over and over again if that was what it took. 

Keith had saved him so many times. 

It was time to return the favor. 

Shiro plowed forward. Ignoring the pounding of his head, ignoring the way the whole world spun with every unsteady step, he ran towards Keith. He turned sharply, outstretching his arms to make a human barrier between Keith and Haggar. Planting his heels and sucking in a deep breath, Shiro watched Haggar’s arm come in a wide arc down toward him. 

He heard Keith gasp. Watched Haggar’s eyes widen in clear surprise. But it was too late to stop the momentum of her swing. 

Her nails pierced through Shiro’s flight suit. Blood spurted around the new wound, splattering the ground and Shiro’s body. He felt a brief shock of agony as the electricity around her hand seized his heart and he heard himself scream once.

Then everything went black. 

Everything had happened so fast. 

One moment, Keith was lifting his sword to protect himself from a fatal blow and the next, Shiro was in front of him with his arms outstretched. Keith had watched, helpless, as she stabbed him through the abdomen. He watched as Shiro’s eyelids fluttered shut and his body quiver with the electricity that surrounded it. 

Keith opened his mouth to scream. 

_ “Shiro!!”  _

Haggar pulled her hand from Shiro’s abdomen with horrifying finality. Blood dripped from her nails. Shiro began to fall sideways and Keith pushed himself up to dart forward and catch his brother before he hit the ground.

There was so much  _ blood.  _ Blood that stained Keith’s hands and borrowed armor, that flowed over Shiro’s sides and pooled around the two of them. Keith scrambled desperately, pressing two bloody fingers to Shiro’s neck to feel for a pulse. His own pounded in his ears. 

“Shiro--Shiro  _ no-!”  _ He had forgotten the last time he’d been so desperate. Maybe it was learning of the Kerberos Mission failure and getting hit with the realization that his only family had gone missing. Being told Shiro had died and getting crushed with the weight of grief that followed. But he had never believed the Garrison back then. He couldn’t believe it now. Even though Shiro’s blood was staining everything within reach, Keith could  _ save him.  _

He fumbled for the straps that kept Shiro’s chest plate in place, but those moments of hesitation were all Haggar needed. She took two long strides forward and reached out with her hand. Her long nails scraped against Keith’s scalp as she grabbed his hand and _ tugged _ . She pulled, dragging him away. He screamed and flailed, one hand grabbing at Haggar’s fingers and the other reaching desperately back towards Shiro. 

“No, Shiro-- _please_ _no!!”_ Keith’s voice was already hoarse from screaming. He felt tears sting his eyes, keeping his gaze fixed firmly on Shiro’s unmoving body. He cried out again, kicking. Haggar reinforced her grip and spun him around, smashing him face-first into the ground. Keith cried out in pain. 

Haggar leaned down and her lips grazed Keith’s ear. “Not to fret. You will join my Champion in the afterlife. Then, you can tell him how his death was  _ your fault.”  _

Keith choked on a sob as he flailed. “ _ No-”  _

“Farewell, half-breed,” Haggar sneered. The anger in her voice was unmistakable. “Your body will help us learn much!” 

Keith choked, managing to twist his neck painfully to stare at Shiro. He hadn’t moved. He was still lying there on his side, facing away from Keith. Blood was staining the concrete around him. Much more and Shiro would-

_ He would-!  _

Haggar raised her blood-covered claws once again to gut him. Keith wailed. It was the most pathetic sound to ever come out of his mouth, but he couldn’t help it. He just wanted to save Shiro. Was that too much to ask? He reached out helplessly, Shiro’s blood-covered form forever imprinted in his memory. Haggar’s hand came down and-

There was an ear-splitting blast and Haggar suddenly lurched forward. Her grip on Keith faded and he wasted no time in wriggling free and making a beeline for Shiro. He fell to his knees by his brother’s side and cradled the motionless head in his hands. He could feel a pulse this time beneath his trembling fingers. Weak, but  _ there.  _

He glanced over to see who had saved him and saw a familiar pair of angry ocean-blue eyes regarding Haggar over the scope of a rifle. 

“No one hurts my family,” Lance snarled. “ _ Puta.”  _

Haggar whirled around to glare at Lance, but he wasn’t afraid of her. He moved to stand between Keith and Shiro and the witch and leveled his rifle at her. Before Keith’s eyes, it began to shimmer and take form into a very familiar broadsword. Through the tears in his eyes and the lump in his throat, Keith heard himself gasp. Lance did the same, but almost instantly his expression hardened. He sliced his new broadsword through the air and pointed it directly at Haggar’s heart. 

“You want someone to play with?” Lance asked and Keith had never heard him so _angry._ “Fine. Let’s play.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IF THE SHOW WON'T GIVE LANCE'S BROADSWORD VALIDATION THEN I WILL 
> 
> God, last weekend was a roller coaster of bad, lemme tell you. My car broke down, we don't have the money to repair it, and all around it was terrible vibes around the house. Things are better this weekend and are a lot quieter. So don't worry! 
> 
> Regardless, this chapter was so much fun to write and I'm so god damn excited for the next one. We're getting really close to the end now, so it's time to wrap up this journey once and for all. And hopefully, save Shiro in the process. 
> 
> FYI: THERE WILL NOT BE AN UPDATE NEXT WEEKEND. I graduate on Saturday, and that whole weekend will just be super busy. 
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed! Thank you all so much for reading and staying with my very inconsistent update schedule. 
> 
> I'll see you two Saturdays from now! <3 
> 
> If you wanna scream at me until the next update comes, hang out on my [tumblr!](https://chocolatechip-master.tumblr.com/)


	39. Chapter 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allura wakes up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't beta-read, so all mistakes are on me. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Alarms were ringing. Allura’s ears rang with the force of them as she lifted her head carefully. She could smell copper, but she couldn’t tell what from. Everything was  _ aching.  _ How long had she been out? 

From what she could tell, she was lying splayed across Blue’s console. A sharp edge was pressing into her gut painfully and she whined pitifully. 

“-llura! Allura!” 

Voices? Where had those come from? 

Allura raised her hand, her fingers brushing against her smooth helmet. She understood instantly. Hunk and Pidge. They were still fighting. Fighting  _ who  _ though?

God her  _ head- _

“ _ Allura!!”  _

Allura inhaled sharply as everything came rushing back at once. Keith, Zaaf, Lotor. All of it. She scrambled to answer her comms, swallowing back something that tasted horribly like blood. She parted her lips, but the only thing that came out was a violent hacking cough. She pressed her hand to her mouth, unable to stop herself from gagging as blood spurted from between her fingers. 

“Allura! Are you okay?!” 

“P-Pidge-” Allura tried swallowing away the taste of copper in her mouth. “Hunk…” 

“Allura,  _ please!”  _ Pidge’s plea was punctuated by a shrill cry of pain. “Answer us!” 

“Allura, we can’t hold him off!” Hunk yelped. “He’s coming for you!” 

_ Can’t they hear me?  _ Allura thought. She raised her head to pull her helmet off her head and stared at it. Half of it had been completely dented in, utterly destroying her microphone. Of course they couldn’t hear her. 

With a soft curse, Allura peeled herself off of the dashboard. She had to get back out there. Lotor was an exceptional pilot and marksman. She couldn’t abandon her family to fight him alone. If she had to fight him on ground then so be it.

Lotor was coming for her? 

Then let him. Allura would meet him strike for strike. 

Allura took a few unsteady steps, one hand fisted around her abdomen. Every step made her ungodly amounts of dizzy, but she swallowed it back to grab her staff. She would make him pay. For making Keith believe he was worthless, for trying to tear her family apart. 

With her head held high, Allura stepped out of her lion. She planted her staff firmly in the ashes of the trees and straightened her spine. Despite the fact she was nearly leaning on her staff or support, she felt downright  _ powerful.  _

Lotor’s ship was already in the process of landing. The Green and Yellow lions were lying in their own ditches, stirring weakly. Allura hoped desperately their Paladins were alright. 

The cockpit of Lotor’s ship hissed, releasing a puff of steam. A moment later, Lotor popped out, pulling a helmet from off his head. His long hair tumbled over his back as he tucked the helmet under one arm. He regarded Allura, a smirk curling over his flawless face. 

“Princess Allura,” he called down to her. Allura’s grip tightened on her staff. “What a pleasure it is to meet you at long last.” With practiced ease, he balanced his weight on one hand and dropped gracefully. Ash and dust rose around his boots as he landed, letting his helmet rest against one of the wings. In a dramatic move, he bowed low, tucking his arm underneath his stomach. 

“Don’t flatter me,” Allura snarled. “I know what you’re capable of.” 

“Oh, yes,” Lotor straightened up. “I trust Keith has told you?” 

“Your transmission was telling enough.” 

Lotor shook his head. “A pity we didn’t get to trade before those meddlesome rebels intervened. Though I doubt that was hardly a coincidence, was it?”

Allura bared her teeth at him. “You were  _ hurting  _ him.” 

“We were simply following protocol for a prisoner of his caliber,” Lotor shot back. 

“And this, I assume, is protocol as well?” Allura snarled. She gestured around her at the decimated forest. “The destruction of a whole planet? The taking of  _ millions  _ of lives?” 

“Naturally.” 

Allura bristled. Lotor still hadn’t lost his smirk. He was  _ enjoying  _ this. This sick, twisted game. He should have lost the moment Keith had been rescued and yet he kept playing. Kept pretending like he had another ace up his sleeve, but he had lost. He just didn’t know when to call it quits. 

“You’re disgusting,” Allura told Lotor and she took pleasure in the way his expression flickered for a second. 

“ _ I’m  _ disgusting?” Lotor narrowed his eyes. “Princess, have you forgotten so soon?”

“Forgotten  _ what?”  _ Allura snarled. 

“How you treated your precious  _ Keith  _ once you found out his heritage?” Lotor taunted. Allura froze, fingers going rigid on her staff. “How you ignored and ostracized him simply because of his bloodline?” 

Allura froze. “What…?” 

“Our witch learned much probing his memories,” Lotor cooed. “One of which was just how  _ insecure  _ he was around you. As soon as you found out he was half-Galra, how did you feel Princess? Distraught?  _ Betrayed?” _

Allura gritted her teeth. She would not allow herself to fall prey to Lotor’s mind-games. She lifted her staff (though she felt like tipping over at the loss of support) and leveled it at him. 

“Enough,” she snarled. “I’ve put my prejudices behind him. Keith is as valuable as the rest of the Paladins.” 

“Valuable…” Lotor hummed. A look was growing in his eyes that Allura did not like. She opened her mouth to retort when motion at her left made her pause. Her gaze darted towards it. A tiny figure was pulling themselves from the Green Lion. 

_ Pidge.  _

Allura could have cried from relief. She tried to catch Pidge’s eye but the tiny paladin was too busy taking in the situation. She had seen Lotor, evident from the flash of her bayard as it appeared in her hand. Allura tried to tell her to stand down but it wasn’t needed. Lotor had noticed her looking for a second too long. He turned to look and saw Pidge. A sculpted eyebrow lifted in surprise. 

“We have an audience,” he murmured. 

“Fuck you,” Pidge spat. Her voice carried far. She clawed out of the pit and lifted her trembling arms to point them at Lotor. Her katar morphed into existence in her fist. “I hope you realize I’m about to make you  _ choke  _ on at  _ least  _ ten-thousand volts of electricity. I don’t think I need to tell you that a human can’t survive that much. I don’t think  _ you  _ can either.” 

Allura had never heard Pidge sound so furious before. She felt it, though. The sight of Lotor, remembering everything Keith had told her, filled her with rage. Part of her wanted to watch Pidge shove her katar down Lotor’s throat. 

It was this part of her that prevented her from stopping Pidge when she charged. 

With a war cry, Pidge tore towards Lotor, upending ash in her wake. There were tears -  _ angry  _ tears - brimming in her eyes, Allura realized. 

It was in that moment Allura realized just what was happening. 

“Pidge-” she called out in alarm, watching Lotor’s stance change. “Wait!  _ No!”  _

Pidge was too far gone. She swung at Lotor wildly as he ducked and leaned out of the way of her every strike. With both hands on her katar, she thrust forward, the tip of it crackling with electricity. With practiced ease, Lotor used one hand to grab her wrist and pull it up, away from him. Pidge’s eyes went wide with surprise, one arm dropping from the handle to swing at his face. He moved away from her hand and with one fluid strike, hit hard on her elbow.

It took a moment for Pidge to register what was happening. By the time it happened, though, it was already too late. Lotor had put pressure on her elbow and-

An audible  _ crack!  _ echoed through Allura’s ears. She opened her mouth to cry out Pidge’s name, but the words never left her lips. Instead, she made a strangled gasping noise halfway between words and a horrified sob. But that was drowned out by what came next. 

Because Pidge  _ screamed.  _

Lotor let her fall to her knees as she dropped her bayard. It vanished in a flash of light as Pidge grasped desperately at her arm. It was hanging in a way it wasn’t meant to, the joint bulging against her armor. Allura thought she might be sick. 

Pidge brushed her fingers against her elbow and screamed anew, pressing the forehead of her helmet into the charred remains of jungle-wood. Lotor towered over her unimpressed. 

Allura watched, her mouth gaping open as Pidge gasped and blubbered, keeled over her broken arm. She’d stopped screaming, thank the Stars, but she was still in pain. 

Allura’s grip was so tight on her staff she thought it’d snap under the pressure. She looked up to meet Lotor’s unimpressed stare, more livid than she’d ever been in her entire life. 

Time and time again, Lotor had hurt her Paladins, her  _ family.  _ And time and time again, Allura had stood by and done nothing. But no more. Never again. Never  _ ever  _ again. She was going to settle this right here, right now. For Keith. For Pidge. 

Lotor was opening his mouth, probably to offer some coy remark about Pidge, but Allura practically pounced on him. She swung his staff for his head and he had to crouch to avoid it. His eyes widened in shock. He danced away from her, skidding as a cloud of ash rose in his wake. 

“No,” Allura stood protectively in front of Pidge. “You don’t get to say  _ anything  _ about my Paladins. Not when  _ you  _ are the cause of the pain!” 

“’llura-” Pidge whimpered between her teeth. Allura shot her a smile. 

“It’s alright, Pidge,” she murmured. “This is the end. I’m putting an end to this nightmare once and for all.” She turned back to Lotor to glare at him. He sighed heavily. 

“If this is how it must be,” he said and he actually sounded  _ remorseful.  _ Allura ignored it and swallowed back the apprehension and the headache still pounding at her eyelids. This had to stop. It had to stop  _ now.  _

Allura took two steps forward and then broke into a run, going to meet Lotor head-on. He had no weapons, as far as she could tell, which put her at an automatic advantage. Though, she couldn’t underestimate Lotor’s prowess. But even still…

Why hadn’t he brought a weapon? 

Lotor ducked over Allura’s first swing, which she anticipated. Instead, she lifted her foot in an attempt to trip him, but he rolled gracefully over it. She swore under her breath but didn’t give him even a moment to breathe. She kept up with a constant barrage of assaults. Sooner or later he would tire and make a mistake. Allura was  _ counting  _ on it. 

Then, very suddenly, Lotor struck out. Palm first, it landed into her stomach, knocking her back a few paces. It gave him enough room to back away, shaking his head to rid his hair of ash. He was looking at her strangely. Allura clenched her jaw and shook her head furiously, jogging forward to resume her flurry of strikes. 

They fought and twisted in a deadly dance. Allura struck out with as much power as she could manage, but Lotor always seemed to be one step ahead of her. Able to pivot out of the way of a blow with seemingly no effort at all. It was infuriating. 

Allura turned hard on her heel, extending her arm in a wide arc hoping to catch Lotor in the tooth as she did so, but he nimbly jumped out of the way. It missed him by inches. She bared her teeth but caught a figure rolling out of the ditch made by the Yellow Lion. 

_ Hunk.  _

He was being far more subtle than Pidge, thank the stars, but he was clearly disoriented and was stumbling. His bayard materialized in his hand. He made eye-contact with Allura and nodded once. 

Allura, understanding at once, renewed her attacks. Relying less on her staff, she tried to strike out with her fists instead. She was no master at hand-to-hand combat, but the sudden change was throwing Lotor off. She watched his eyes narrow, his head turn to look behind him for a split second. Hunk, who was coming up behind him, froze. Allura acted quickly. 

Spinning her staff expertly in one hand she roared and  _ smashed  _ it into Lotor’s chest. His mouth opened in surprise as he was suddenly stumbling backward. 

“Hunk, now!” 

With a cry, Hunk released a barrage into the armor off of Lotor’s back. The armor was strong enough that only a few got in to burn him, but it was enough for Allura. She sidestepped, swinging her staff directly into the side of Lotor’s head. He crumpled instantly. 

Breathing heavily, with her headache rearing its ugly head once more, Allura collapsed to her hands and knees. The aching in her abdomen was far too prominent again. She found it was suddenly very hard to breathe. 

“Allura?” Hunk dropped down next to her. 

Allura shook her head, thinking about the blood she’d coughed up earlier and tried to hide the dried scarlet on her palm with ash as she fisted it. 

“I’m okay,” she managed through a gasp, even though she wasn’t. “Tend to Pidge.”

Hunk spun around to do so, but found Pidge staggering toward them. She was still clutching her elbow like her life depended on it. It flopped uselessly with every heavy step and Pidge looked like she was about to cry from the pain. Allura felt her heart go out to their smallest paladin. 

“Is...he dead?” Pidge’s voice was hoarse. 

Allura shook her head, turning to look at Lotor’s crumpled form. She could still see his chest rising and falling, though he’d wake with a  _ hell  _ of a headache. 

“No,” she murmured. “I’ve merely knocked him out.” 

“Then we should finish the job,” Pidge said viciously. “Make sure he can’t do this  _ ever  _ again.” 

“No,” Allura said again. She kept her voice as firm as possible, even though she could taste copper at the back of her throat once more. “No, we can’t.” 

“Why not?” Pidge spat. The thought of killing had always made the Paladins squeamish, but the vindictive fury in Pidge’s eyes was answer enough as to why they couldn’t kill Lotor and be done with it. 

“It would...disgrace our name,” Allura swallowed back another wave of nausea. She was far too short of breath. “As Paladins.” 

“Fuck our reputation!” Pidge shouted. “This guy hurt Keith! He made him feel  _ worthless!”  _

“And yet, he didn’t bring a weapon to our battle,” Allura countered. “He only fought if provoked. There’s something else going on here. Hunk, do you have rope?” 

“In the cargo bay,” Hunk glanced back at Yellow who was slowly coming back online. “Why? Do you need it?” 

“Yes,” Allura said. “Tie him up, lock him in your cargo hold. He won’t try anything.” 

“And how do you know that?” Hunk was already biting his nails. 

Allura looked over at Lotor. She counted another slow breath he dragged in through his lungs. 

“Just trust me,” she said quietly in response. “He won’t.” 

Hunk and Pidge exchanged looks but did not argue. Hunk headed back to Yellow to get a sling for Pidge and rope while Allura and Pidge caught their breath. Allura felt like she was about to pass out. She half-wanted to call Coran for an emergency check-up. The pulsing in her abdomen couldn’t have been healthy. 

It was silent. Too silent. Allura tried to enjoy it, but the knowledge that they were on an unfamiliar planet fighting back the Galra intent on destroying their allies made it hard. She turned to look at Pidge, who seemed to be trying to focus on anything other than the pain in her elbow. 

Hunk came back as soon as he was able. He hogtied Lotor and left him lying face-down in the ash. Allura kicked him over onto his back so he wouldn’t suffocate and turned to look as Hunk bandaged up Pidge’s arm. They had to go back up the others. They probably needed it. Especially given Haggar and possibly Laynek were still at large. 

But even still, they were in no condition to fight an eight-foot Galra and a witch. Pidge least of all. But Allura wasn’t sure if they had a choice. If push came to shove, Pidge could provide air support as she wouldn’t be much help on the battlefield itself. 

Allura sucked in a deep breath. She put the agony pulsing in her abdomen on the backburner for now and rose to her feet. She wanted to tell Hunk and Pidge to hurry so that they may go help, but before she could, Pidge’s head shot up. Her good hand was pressed to her comms. 

“Pidge?” Hunk asked. 

“Lance and Shiro’s comms just came back online,” she breathed. 

“Oh God-” Hunk’s eyes widened in panic at the look on Pidge’s face. “Where are they? Are they okay?!” 

Pidge swallowed thickly. Once, she shook her head. Ice shot through Allura’s veins. 

“What’s going on?” She spoke urgently. “Who can you hear?” 

Pidge raised her eyes to meet Allura’s. “Lance. And he’s screaming for our help.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL MY E KEY HAS OFFICIALLY KICKED THE BUCKET FUCKING GREAT! The little rubber thing fell off while I was writing and now I just kind of tap it to make it work but it doesn't work all the time rip me. I'll have to go in to get it repaired aghklagha
> 
> Regardless, BAMF Allura is best Allura. I love her so much. She's seen so much of her family just get hurt over and over again and she's done with it. But also, Lotor's being a mysterious little shit (as usual) so what could he be up to? Hm??? Also, I'm not sorry for the cliffhanger, like at all >:D 
> 
> Thank you all for the warm wishes about my graduation last week! Everything went fine, and I'm now planning on going up to college! Not sure what I'm going to study yet, but I think everything will work out. Regardless, this might have little changes in the update schedule but I fully intend on keeping up with this one until it's done! And after it's done, a new project! :D 
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! 
> 
> I'll see you all next Saturday! <3


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance is done watching his family be hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't beta-read, so all mistakes are on me. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Lance was woefully inexperienced with his new broadsword. As badass as it made him feel, his very first swing was clumsy and much too wide. He nearly dropped it from sheer weight alone, trying to ignore the color creeping up his neck as the slice missed Haggar horribly. He tried to play it off as a practice swing, tossing the handle to his free hand and back again.

As casually as he could manage, he glanced back at Keith. Unshed tears shone in his eyes, grime and blood sticking to his face. He looked even worse than when he’d stumbled into Red’s cockpit. He cradled Shiro’s head in both hands, trying to pull it onto his lap. Shiro’s face was deathly pale, blood pooling around them both and staining their armor.

Lance gritted his teeth. He should have been faster. He shouldn’t have spent so long arguing with Red to _stay put_ because she’d probably make the situation worse by firing on them in an attempt to protect them and instead had left the cockpit sooner. Shiro had been stabbed in his absence. Lance wasn’t sure what he could have done to prevent it but at the very least, maybe Shiro would have been conscious.

Keith’s eyes went wide. He opened his mouth to call out a warning, but Lance turned far too slow. As Haggar’s claws went swinging for him, he cursed himself for forgetting the _one_ rule the Garrison had taught him in combat training.

 _Never_ take your eyes off your enemy.

Lance _flew_ sideways, hitting the ground with a painful thud. He gripped his sword as tightly as he could manage as the debris from the runway scattered around him. Haggar sneered at him from where she was standing. It was almost like she’d exerted no effort in such a huge blow at all.

She said nothing as she slowly began to walk - no, _glide_ \- toward Lance. He half wanted her to speak, some jab at how clearly inexperienced he was, just so he could fire back a retort. He was good with words, so why couldn’t Haggar follow Villainy 101 and just start monologuing already?! It’d by Lance some time to stop floundering on the ground like a fish and pull himself to his feet for the fight of his life.

“Real chatterbox, aren’t you?” Lance quipped in a vain attempt to force her to falter while he climbed to his feet. Rubble skidded underneath his boots. “Y’know, typically villains go on this long-winded explanation of their motivations and plans so whenever you’re ready is fine.”

Haggar actually stopped. The way she was staring at Lance made shivers tingle down his spine. Silently, she sized him up, the cold glint of her yellow eyes just visible through her hood. Lance opened his mouth, another witty remark on the tip of his tongue, when she finally spoke.

“Pitiful,” she said.

“Huh?”

“Your attempts to stall. They are pitiful.”

The grin on Lance’s face froze in place. Was he so easy to read? _Shit._

However, at the very least, his dumb comments had managed to get her to freeze in her tracks. Lance rose up to his full height and adopted the cockiest smirk he could manage.

“But,” Lance said. “It is stalling you.”

Haggar’s expression did not change, but she did start moving toward him. Her blood-soaked fingers began to crackle with electricity once more. Lance shifted to hold his broadsword in both hands and swallowed thickly. He sidestepped her first strike and pivoted hard on his heel like he’d seen Keith do in countless battles and sliced down at her back. She vanished in a cloud of smoke, materializing behind him. Lance turned to catch the hand she planted into his gut full-force.

All the wind was knocked from him in an instant. He couldn’t even find the strength to scream as the electricity shot and turned what felt like every organ in his abdomen to ash. It took every inch of his willpower to not crumple to the ground once more in an undignified heap.

“Jeez-” he sucked in a deep, wheezing breath. “You really like electricity." He inhaled again. "You’re a witch, right? Don’t you have any other tricks up your sleeve?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Lance wished he could take them and cram them right back down his throat because Haggar clenched her fists and the electricity vanished. In its place came horrible purple magic that licked the ground as she walked.

“Is this more to your liking, Blue Paladin?” Haggar crooned.

“Yeah,” Lance’s brain was apparently ignoring every command he gave it to shut up. “Yeah, it’s great. Love it.” He began to step backward, trying to think desperately. Every single rational part of him was screaming to stay away from those hands at all costs. He’d already felt the witch’s magic more times then he cared to admit, but he had the buffer of Blue to buffer the worst of it. Here, he had Paladin armor and a broadsword. Not much in the way of magical alien protection.

He swung with his broadsword as she came towards him and turned hard as she swung around him to avoid it. Something in his ankle popped and he was certain that it wasn’t a good thing. Narrowly, he managed to avoid taking Haggar’s hand of death to the face, but the back of his armor wasn’t so lucky. A stray arc of magic caught it, slicing it clean through the middle. It clattered to the ground, useless.

Lance darted away from her, desperate to put some space between them. He suddenly felt a lot more vulnerable. The loss of his chest plate was not only going to be deadly if he wasn’t careful, it made him feel a whole lot more insecure. He was planning on using it as a kind of shield. The armor that would give him a second chance should he make a mistake. Now, all Haggar had to do was get one lucky shot and it was over. It was _all_ over.

He sucked in a deep breath and sliced at Haggar to keep her at bay as she came far too close for comfort. He could see Keith from where he was standing, transfixed. Unwilling to move with Shiro so close to death’s doorstep.

_Keith._

This whole nightmare had started with him. Had started with a stupid mistake on a prison ship that not all of them had made it off of. This whole time, Lance had wanted nothing more than to bring Keith, nurse him back to that hot-headed mulleted boy he’d grown inexplicably fond of. Keith was his brother now, for better or for worse, and Lance was no stranger to family. He was a middle child of an enormous family, the elder brother of three, and had all of the instincts to go with it. If something happened to him while battling Haggar, well…

So be it.

Lance would rather live his last moments protecting his family then keeled over in submission.

He tucked and rolled to avoid a swipe from Haggar and kicked out in an attempt to knock her off her feet. It didn’t work, but it was worth a shot. Without giving himself pause, Lance ducked forward, swinging clumsily. The broadsword’s sharp edge cut into Haggar’s shoulder, sinking deep into her flesh. She hissed and dematerialized in an instant, the broadsword clattering loudly to the ground.

Haggar reappeared a few feet away, seething. The wound didn’t even seem to bother her, despite the blood soaking into her cloak. It was almost as if Lance had merely nicked her. He swallowed thickly.

“It seems,” Haggar sneered. The magic around her hands had vanished. “Voltron’s sixth-wheel sniper has some skill after all.”

Lance bared his teeth at her in response. He wouldn’t let her goad him into a response. Instead, he drew himself back to his feet, scooping up his fallen sword bravely. Haggar watched him and Lance held his breath, wondering what was next now that he’d somehow survived her deadly magic hands because surely it couldn’t get worse.

He jinxed it.

Before his eyes, Haggar began to duplicate. Over and over, Haggars appeared around him in a wide circle with a cackle. Each one melted into each other until a symphony of eerie laughter surrounded Lance. He felt his spine prickle, the hairs on the back of his neck rising from unease. He turned in a slow circle, sword pointed at every Haggar he could see. He could no longer tell which one was the right one, much less where he was relative to anything anymore.

Lance swallowed down a terrified whimper.

“Now,” the Haggars spoke in unison and it was _horrible._ “Let’s see how you like to play now.”

Together, they lunged. Every single one had Shiro’s blood caked onto her hand as they swiped with their long nails. Lance ducked, striking out at one. With a terrible wail, it vanished in a puff of purple smoke. He swung around to destroy another one, a stray claw swiping across his cheek. Blood trickled from the wound as he kept fighting.

He couldn’t keep this up forever. Haggar would get the best of him eventually. He was only one man and she was a space witch who ran on quintessence. He didn’t know the limits of her power, and he sure as hell didn’t want to find out.

With both hands on his bayard, he swung in a wide arc in front of him. Several Haggars burst into smoke with a high-pitched screech. Little by little, Lance dwindled the numbers back, but every swing became sluggish. It was a miracle that he was virtually unscathed given his lack of armor.

He slumped forward, cutting through another Haggar, drawing in deep breaths through his lungs. He lifted his sword weakly to face the next Haggars approached, but the real one had seen her opportunity.

Around him, all of the witches vanished at once. Lance’s eyes widened in surprise and he started to turn around, but it was already far too late.

Haggar’s palm, crackling with magical energy, slammed into his back. At her touch, the flight suit _dissolved,_ leaving frayed fabric flapping uselessly at his sides.

Lance arched his body and screamed.

His ears popped and he could hear something crackling with static in his ear. In a desperate plea, hoping the comms were back, he cried out-

“Pidge--Hunk--’Llura-! _Help!!”_

His cry punctured through the air shrilly, but he could hardly hear it over the blood pounding in his ears. Everything was starting to hurt, heating up like a furnace and then-

His back _cracked_ apart, skin splitting apart like splintered glass. It spidered up to his shoulders, to his sides, down to his hips. Blood spurted from the new wounds, staining Lance’s back as he screamed again. The agony was mind-numbing. Lance was unable to focus on anything but the fact that she was literally _splitting_ his back apart from the outside in.

“ _Stop it!”_

Haggar’s palm faltered. She pulled it away to look over Lance’s head. Keith was standing there, blood all over his face and hair, his ruined armor doing nothing as protection. But he stood tall, fury in his eyes and holding his Marmoran Blade in one hand and his bayard in the other.

Lance made eye-contact with him briefly before he crumpled. Blood flooded over his sides and arms. His eyes fluttered closed.

Keith shut his eyes tightly, but the stench of blood was already too strong in the air. There was _so_ much of it.

He’d seen too much today. He’d watched Mira sacrifice herself for him. He’d watched Shiro take an attack meant for him. He’d watched Lance fight for his sake and lose. The time to draw the line had long since passed. Keith was _done._

“That’s enough,” he said viciously, opening his eyes. He swallowed back the bile in his throat as he caught a glimpse of the _jagged_ wound that had been cut into Lance’s back. “This is between you and me.”

“Now that his vanguard has been eliminated, has the prisoner finally decided to fight for himself?” Haggar sneered.

“I am _not_ a prisoner,” Keith said. “Not anymore.”

“Then what are you?” Haggar snarled.

Keith tightened his grip on his swords. Laynek had asked him something similar. He had tried to break Keith through words and had failed. Haggar was different. She did not try to label him. She waited for his response, with blood all over her cloak and Lance at her feet. Keith gritted his teeth. He knew what he was. He was the Red Paladin of Voltron, with Galra blood running through his veins.

But right now?

Right now Keith was downright _furious._

“I’m a brother,” Keith snarled. “Who is fucking _done_ with you hurting his family.”

 

Lotor peeled his eyes open.

He had his cheek pressed against something cold and hard, and he could not move his hands. In fact, he’d been expertly hog-tied and tossed into what appeared to be a storage closet. From the humming beneath his ear, he deduced it was one of the Lions.

_Good._

They were likely on their way to back up the rest of the Paladins against the witch. Lotor doubted Laynek was still alive. He was all muscle and no brain and already had one foot in death’s door by the time this had all started.

By the time Lotor had started planning.

He had never wanted to lead the Galra Empire. His whole life had been spent in the shadow of his father, desperately trying and failing to impress him. Lotor knew that he could never atone for what he did to Keith. He’d stood idly by and even participated while his people tore him apart. There was no coming back from that.

However, he’d seen Keith’s primal urge to survive. He had seen the lengths that the Paladins and the rebels were willing to go through just to save one little light in the universe. He wanted to understand it. He wanted to know what it was like to be loved so much that entire galaxies were willing to bend over backward to ensure your survival.

And if he had to use the Paladins to get to see that light, to _feel_ it once in his miserable existence, then so be it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, if you're wondering why I've kept Lotor out of the spotlight for the most part during the recovery while Haggar and Laynek took the main stage, this is why. I don't want to redeem him for everything he's done to Keith in this story, but I don't want to leave such a complex and major character out of the limelight when he's been such an integral part of it from the beginning. Lotor is a very strange person and I want to do his character justice as best I can. 
> 
> Also, you might have noticed I put a chapter limit on the story! I don't intend on making it any more than 43 chapters unless I need more to completely finish the story I'm trying to tell. So, while that does mean things are coming to an end very soon here, I'm definitely not done yet. Stick around! There's more whump to be had. >:D 
> 
> Regardless, thank you for reading! Sorry it's a bit short, I'm running on a total of six hours of sleep from the last three days. Preparing for college has been a lot more hectic than I was expecting. But don't worry! Things are starting to calm down! :D 
> 
> Thank you all so so much for reading! I'll see you all next Saturday! <3


End file.
